


The Devil's Right Hand

by Accidental_Ducky



Series: A Father's Compromise [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mummies, Mummy/Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12106092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/pseuds/Accidental_Ducky
Summary: In which Thalia can't sleep, so her fathers tell her the story of how they fell in love, saved the world, and brought a mummy back to life. Not exactly in that order."I want the true love story.” Jim and Sebastian share a look, Jim’s nose twitching the way it does when he’s not sure about something. Thalia could practically see the gears turning in their heads, trying to figure out if the love story was a good idea since she’d been so scared earlier. Thalia also knew that neither of the men could refuse her puppy eyes, so she adopts the expression that had her fathers immediately giving in.“Alright, well, it all started becausesomeonehere thought reading from a cursed book found amongst canned body parts was a good idea….”





	1. Bedtime Stories

 

Thalia Moran was snuggly curled up in her bed, in that state of half-sleep where her imagination turned simple things like the pile of clothes in the rocking chair into a monster with tentacles; the shadows were moving things coming to get her, the thunder outside was a giant stomping through London with glee, the rain pinging against her window was a monumental flood coming to wash her away.

“Daddy,” she cries, pulling her comforter over her head to protect herself from the monsters,” Papa!” There was the muffled sound of a pistol being dropped and then she could vaguely hear two sets of footsteps rushing down the hall to her bedroom, the door being flung open a moment later.

“Thalia,” her papa calls, yanking the covers back and immediately scooping her up in his strong arms. It was just a second later that her daddy comes in as well, huffing and puffing in his silk pajamas and bunny slippers. Papa slips her hearing aids on so she can hear him when he begins to talk. “What’s wrong, Honeybear?”

“The monsters are comin’. They was gonna get me.” The four year old had tears in her eyes as she looked at the two men, her protectors for all intents and purposes.

“Were,” Daddy corrects instinctively,” they _were_ going to get you.” Jim scrunches up his nose and shakes his head, reaching out to run slim, pale fingers through Thalia’s unruly mop of hair. “And no monster is going to take you away from us.”

“That’s right,” Papa agrees,” because what do we do to monsters?” Thalia gives a little shrug, playing with the buttons on Sebastian’s shirt. “We make ‘em wish they’d never come back from the dead.” She gives her parents a shy smile, the fear starting to ebb now that they were in the room with her.

“To make you feel better, I’ll check the room over for any monsters that think they can sneak by me.” Jim does as he promised, Sebastian and Thalia watching on as the dark-haired man moves from the spacious closet, to the bed, and even pokes his head out the window despite the downpour. “Nothing to worry about, Honeybear,” he says as he shuts the window, head and shoulders soaking wet.

“You’re silly,” Thalia giggles.

“Ah, but that’s the key to being a good Daddy, isn’t it? Silliness and more silliness, followed by a good dose of paranoia.”

“That pretty much sums you up, Boss,” Sebastian says with a crooked grin. Jim scowls at the blond, but says nothing since there were little ears in the room. Thalia could guess what he wanted to say though, some bad word in Gaelic that she wouldn’t understand, but her papa would and then he’d call Daddy something in German. Either way, she usually ended up with no less than fifty dollars for her swear jar as long as it didn’t escalate into an actual argument.

“Very funny,” Jim says dryly. “Why don’t you take Thalia to the kitchen and start the hot chocolate while I change into my other pajamas?”

“Alright, but you’re staying up with her if she gets a sugar high.” Sebastian adjusts his hold on Thalia before walking out of her bedroom and going to the kitchen down the hall. It was as big as every other room in the house—only the best for James Moriarty, after all—and was decked out in the latest appliances. Thalia liked all the shiny surfaces, they were like the funny mirrors in a circus, making her seem taller than she actually was. “Have a seat, Your Highness.”

“Papa,” Thalia laughs as he sits her down in the center of the little table,” you’re even sillier than Daddy.”

“That just means I’m cooler.” He winks, walking over to the row of cabinets just above the counter, opening one and pulling out the box of instant coco. It was a ritual after Thalia had bad dreams, they’d all drink hot coco with whipped cream and sprinkles to calm her down. It was one of her favorite parts of spending the weekends and breaks with her papa, it meant she was safe and nobody could get her.

Jim came in a few moments later, dressed in fresh PJs and his favorite pair of bunny slippers. There were dark rings beneath his eyes from his lack of sleep, not that her daddy slept much anyway. “All dry now and still no sign of any monsters.” He gives Thalia a toothy grin, sitting in one of the wooden chairs right across from her. “How about in here?”

“No monsters,” Thalia confirms, scooting across the table so that her legs were hanging over the edge. Jim takes both of her feet in his hands like she wanted, waiting until they were a little warmer before tickling them. “Daddy!” She giggles uncontrollably, wriggling her feet until she got loose and could scoot back in the middle with her legs curled under her.

It’s quiet for the next few minutes, Jim and Thalia taking midnight selfies to send to Thalia’s mother in Oklahoma, and Sebastian worked his magic on the hot coco. Only her papa could make out-of-the-box mix taste like he whipped it up himself. After the dinger on the microwave goes off for the third time, Seb puts a big dab of whipped cream in the mugs, followed by a healthy dose of sprinkles, and then brings all three over to the table. Sebastian’s blond hair was ruffled, though it looked almost brown now that it was cut so close to his head. Thalia still remembered the days when she would sit on his shoulders or the back of his chair just to play with the curls, burying her little fingers in the silky strands as she attempted to braid them.

“Can I have a story,” she asks as she accepts her little mug from her papa. “To make the bad dreams go away?”

“Which story do you want to hear, Honeybear,” Seb asks with a tired smile. He settled down in the chair next to Jim’s, the fingers of one hand wrapped around his warm mug while his others were laced with Jim’s on his knee. “I could tell you about the time I hit a bullseye from a hundred and seventy-six yards.”

“No, I want the true love story.” Jim and Sebastian share a look, Jim’s nose twitching the way it does when he’s not sure about something. Thalia could practically see the gears turning in their heads, trying to figure out if the love story was a good idea since she’d been so scared earlier. Thalia also knew that neither of the men could refuse her puppy eyes, so she adopts the expression that had her fathers immediately giving in.

“Alright, well, it all started because _someone_ here thought reading from a cursed book found amongst canned body parts was a good idea….”


	2. Making Bail

[Clothes](https://www.polyvore.com/devils_right_hand/collection?id=6198959) [Alicia](http://www.etonline.com/sites/default/files/images/2015-05/640_jodi_sweetin.jpg)

**THREE YEARS AGO—LONDON, ENGLAND**

*******

Sebastian grins as he walks out of the police station, heading directly for the man leaning against a town car. “Miss me, Boss,” he asks, sliding his sunglasses in place and looking the man over. James Moriarty was impeccably dressed in a black Westwood suit, hair slicked back, and his sunglasses hiding his dark eyes.

“The only thing I miss is the mashed potatoes that were thrown across the kitchen,” Moriarty snaps, pushing off the car and walking to the back passenger’s door. “Get in before I change my mind and leave you in this dump.” Still grinning, Sebastian joins him in the backseat, running scarred fingers through his tangled hair. He would need to cut it soon, but it could hold off for a couple more days.

“I’ll buy you some more mashed potatoes in the morning.”

“They won’t be the same.” Moriarty gives a prim little sniff, turning his head away from the blond. To anyone else, it would seem that Moriarty was looking out the window, but Sebastian knew he was using the reflection to study Seb. “You just had to get arrested, didn’t you, Tiger?”

“Admit it, you enjoyed the look on your father’s face when I broke his nose.”

“You do realize you were banned from ever stepping inside his home again?”

“That was the plan, Boss.” He leans back with a contented sigh, arms behind his head and eyes closed. A few hours in a jail cell was nothing new to him, though he could’ve done without meeting the tough biker that persisted in bragging to Sebastian about his nice flower shop.  _Daisies and tattoos aren’t things that normally go together, but Dev really pulled them off_.

For a while, the only sound he could hear was the car as it went down the busy streets of London; occasional yelling from outside, honking, the hissing of the air conditioner as the driver flips it on. Seb was fine with the silence, used to it, and that’s why he nearly jumped out of his skin at the murmured words coming from his boss’s general direction.

“For God’s sakes.”

“Anything I should know about,” Seb asks, not opening his eyes yet. He needn’t do that when Moriarty was still relaxed beside him, it’s when the man goes rigid that he would have to worry.

“No, just a client acting up. You know, some people have no respect.”

“I could shoot ‘im in the foot if you want.”

“Not quite yet, but I’ll keep that in mind.” The corners of Seb’s lips turn up in smile, his sensitive ears picking up the faint tapping of Jim's fingers typing out a message on his Blackberry. Seb preferred an iPhone, but that was just his opinion and he knew to keep his mouth shut about any Apple products. To say Moriarty wasn’t fond of them would be a gross under exaggeration considering he had set an entire store on fire for shits and giggles.

Seb had almost drifted off when the car comes to a stop, his blue eyes snapping open at the faint jerk. Moriarty gets out immediately, Seb following suit and it’s not until the car’s pulling away that he realizes this wasn’t the usual neighborhood. Seb’s apartment building was basically one brick away from total annihilation and Jim had an entire manor house to himself, but this block was somewhere in the middle.

“Uh… Where are we?”

“Follow.” He obeys without another question, ignoring the way his stomach growled as they headed inside a nice building. It was all grey brick on the outside with a green awning over the door, marble floors with walls so white they nearly hurt his eyes, and a simple desk several feet from the glass doors. The man sitting behind the desk was scrawny and bony, a thin mustache on his upper lip, and dark brown hair that made it look like he’d just crawled out of bed.

“Welcome back, sir,” the man greets, blue eyes darting everywhere. It’s only when they land on Seb that he goes stock-still, hands trembling the slightest bit on top of the desk. Of course, Seb recognized the man as well, fingers twitching as he itched for some form of weapon in his hand. “Moran?”

“Ferret Face,” Sebastian greets stiffly. The man sucks in a breath, looking torn between staying where he was with an object between them or bolting for the front doors. “Don’t even try it.”

“Anderson,” Jim says loudly,” press the goddamn button.” The rat pressed a discreet button under the desk so fast that the pale hand was a blur, then it was pressed back against the hardwood near a cup of pens. “Is she in her office?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Anderson stutters out, still staring at Sebastian like he feared for his life. Which was probably smart since all Sebastian wanted to do was drive a knife through the other man’s nether regions. “Go right in.”

“Moran, come.” It was a business venture then; the only reason Jim refers to Seb by his last name. Well, there was that first time during sex and, if Sebastian was remembering correctly, he’d used those exact words. _Pretty fucking effective, too_. With one last threatening sneer in Anderson’s direction, Seb walks with his boss up a stairwell to a door at the very top, half-opened already.

“What are we—” One sharp look from his boss had the question dying on his tongue, mouth snapping shut as they walked into an office. It was surprisingly small for the size of the building, almost cozy with dark blue carpeting, paneled walls, and an entire wall of windows just behind a desk. The woman seated there was the last one he expected to see, his mouth falling back open. The woman was pretty for the most part, blonde hair done up in a neat bun on top of her head, dressed in a Harry Potter top and short jean skirt that was completely inappropriate for an office job. Not that Alicia Mather belonged in an office setting, she should be out in the world, exploring and bugging natives.

“Close your mouth, Sebby,” Alicia advises with a warm smile,” you’re gonna catch flies.” But Sebastian just continued to stare at her, taking in everything that had changed during his three months away from the Mather family, the way her skin was darker, grey eyes brighter than ever, the way she swayed a little too much when she walked.

“You hired my fucking sister-in-law, Boss?”


	3. The Urban Legend

Alicia Mather was at the top of her field, though most of the world didn’t know that since all of her discoveries found themselves tucked away in various estates spread throughout England, Hurghada, and Oklahoma. She mainly focused on ancient Egypt—the kid was downright _obsessed_ —and it was rare to see her away from a dig site. Actually, now that Sebastian was thinking about it, this was only the second time he’d seen her in real life instead of on a computer screen.

“It’s been a long time,” he manages once he got over the shock of seeing her.

“Yeah, not since Thalia was born.” _That_ had been a stressful day, a wife in labor, a sister-in-law freaking the fuck out, and a boss that quoted poems in Gaelic to drown out everyone. “How’s my niece doing?”

“She’s great, started walking just two days ago.”

“Wow, isn’t that really early?”

“She took after her godfather,” Jim puts in with a smug half-smile,” got my brain, her mother’s eyes, and Moran’s hair.” Alicia cocks up a brow, pointing one manicured finger in Jim’s direction.

“ _You’re_ one of her godparents?” She turns her gaze on Sebastian now and he can suddenly see the similarity between the Mather sisters. Kelsey had the exact same expression when she was angry, which usually meant objects were about to be thrown. “What the fuck? I barely get to claim the title of aunt!” Sebastian gives a shrug, not wanting to explain that Kelsey had chosen her best friend as the godmother because she didn’t want her daughter growing up around dank, musty tombs if something happened to her.

“Suck it up, buttercup.” Jim had wandered over to the windows, staring down at the empty street. “Do you have what I wanted or do I need your brother-in-law to shoot out your kneecaps?”

“Isn’t that a little too Capone for you? Anyway, he’ll be the ex in just a few short days.” Despite her calm demeanor, she was opening a desk drawer before she’d finished talking, pulling out a fragile piece of papyrus. Seb moves closer to get a better look at it, unable to make heads nor tails of what the hell it was supposed to be. There were several drawings spread across the front of it, four small sections were hieroglyphics; he knew a couple of the drawings might have been gods while the human-looking guy with the weird hat was a Pharaoh, dotted white lines connected several of the figures, and the little guy with the jackal head was Anubis.

“What’s it dated?”

“Around 1290 BC, I’d say.” That had Jim strolling over to have a glance himself, bending down and careful not to touch it. It looked like it could fall apart with a strong breath, but he supposed the fact that it was completely intact after three thousand years was a miracle in itself.

“Is it authentic?”

“I wouldn’t have sent you the text it if wasn’t.” There’s a moment of silence where the two stared at the papyrus, their heads bent together. Sebastian stayed on his side of the desk, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he waits for something to happen that wasn’t quiet breathing or revered staring. It’s only when Jim removes his sunglasses and runs a pale hand over his jaw that Seb realizes this is something important.

“Not to be the moron in the room,” he says, raising his hand like a schoolboy in class,” but what the fuck is so special about old papyrus?”

“This isn’t just old papyrus, this is a _map!”_ Unfazed by the yelling, Seb arches his brows in question and has to fight a smirk when Jim gives a dramatic roll of his eyes. James Moriarty was all about the dramatic and had even brought a six-hundred pound gown to Thalia’s christening just because ‘my godchild isn’t going to be blessed looking like some kind of peasant.’ Seb had to draw the line at the diamond-studded tiara.

“Like a treasure map?”

“Dear God, I’m fucking an imbecile.” Seb does smirk at that, knowing that the casual sex they had every other week was some of the best that Jim has had in a while. Seb had been pinned against the wall by Jim on their first meeting and, until last month, he’d never expected to be in that same position with Jim’s dick in him. Not that he’s complaining or anything.

“You ever heard of Hamunaptra,” Alicia cuts in. It takes a second or two, but Seb can vaguely remember a Christmas Skype call that was mainly Alicia telling Seb’s daughter about some ancient city where some kind of drama had kicked off. “It’s called the City of the Dead, it’s where they did all the mummification for important people and where this priest guy tried to raise the love of his life from the dead.”

“It’s been an urban legend for years, but I’ve always had a soft spot for it. Not the true love bit, but the part about a certain book that holds ancient spells and curses.”

“And speaking of curses, the priest guy was stopped about halfway through his ritual by the Pharaoh’s bodyguards since raising the dead was a big no-no back then. As punishment, his followers were mummified alive and the big guy himself suffered the Hom-Dai, this ancient curse that meant he was mummified alive and slowly eaten by scarabs.”

“The other part of the curse means he’ll bring about the ten plagues of Egypt and destroy the world.” Seb blinks a couple of times, looking at the map with some new respect and even more confusion.

“So these guys thought giving their enemy unimaginable powers was the right solution to him trying to zombify his girlfriend,” he asks, not buying it.

“Well, for that _and_ shanking the Pharaoh in his own palace. Also, the girlfriend was actually Seti’s girlfriend first, so they were cheating on the most powerful man in Egypt. The whole powers thing doesn’t make any sense to me, but whatever.”

“Ancient Egyptians didn't fuck around when it came to punishments, did they?”

“Nope.”

“So, are you just interested in collecting the map or….?” It’s Jim’s turn to smirk now and that alone was enough to make Sebastian realize just what the hell was going on here. “No,” he states firmly, pointing at Jim like an angry parent would their child. “We are _not_ trudging through miles and miles of stupid sand just to find an ancient city where a priest was turned into a walking fuckin’ apocalypse. It’s not happening, James!” Jim’s smirk transforms into a feral grin that said otherwise.  

 _This isn’t going to end well_.


	4. The Quest Begins

“I can’t believe this is actually fucking happening.”

“Suck it up, Tiger,” Jim says without looking up from his phone. He’s been texting someone continuously since they took off and had only stopped long enough to leave one plane and board a helicopter. Six hours out and he was still going, Sebastian wondering where all that stamina was the night before when he’d been left high and dry with one wrist handcuffed to the headboard. _Selfish bastard_.

“How do you even have cell service in the middle of the desert?”

“I’m clever.” Seb frowns, biting back a comment about how his cleverness was a pain in the arse more than it helped lately.

“Who are you texting?”

“Your wife.” When Seb doesn’t say anything, Jim glances away from his phone to find his sniper staring at him in slight shock. It wasn’t hard to figure out why considering Jim couldn’t stand Kelsey Mather at the best of times, let alone when he was stuck in a cramped space with only Sebastian for company. “It’s about my goddaughter, ‘Bastian, relax.”

“I told you she wouldn’t appreciate you renting out the entire zoo just because Thalia doesn’t like people.” Upon remembering the impending birthday just two months from now, he'd quickly bribed his way into having the entire zoo closed so that Thalia wouldn't have to interact with anyone other than the two men. Seb knew they'd spend most of their time looking at elephants given that they were his daughter's favorite animals, but he couldn't wait to buy out half the gift shop for her. 

“It’s not that, she took Honeybear to the doctor’s office yesterday.” That was news to Sebastian and he hastily dug his phone out of his pocket to check for any messages. There was only one and it was from earlier that morning when Alicia sent him a picture of a scarab beetle trapped in amber.

“That’s weird, I haven’t got anything from her.”

“That’s because it doesn’t concern you.” Seb arches a brow at that, sending his boss a look that said Jim was a fucking idiot. “Touchy this morning, aren’t you?”

“That tends to happen when _somebody_ decides to play Chopin at three in the goddamned morning.” Whenever Jim couldn’t sleep or wanted to annoy the sniper, he’d break out the piano and have at it whenever Seb was nearly asleep. It made Seb wonder what would happen should he attempt to shove said piano where the sun didn’t shine. But Jim waves off his annoyed frown and continues to text.

“Thalia needs hearing aids so, naturally, I’m ensuring she gets the best ones. I refuse to have my goddaughter walking around with sub-par hearing.”

“Since when did my daughter go deaf?!”

“She was born that way, do try to keep up. She’s only partially deaf, she can still hear some sounds, though they’re really muffled. Apparently, this is why she’s had so much trouble with speaking, so we’re hoping these hearing aids will help her out. Who knows, maybe her first word will be _Jim._ ”  

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, Boss.” Jim cuts his gaze up again, looking less than pleased about that statement. “You don’t even play with her when you drop by to see her.”

“Be that as it may, I spoil the little brat rotten and she’ll love me the best for it when she’s older.” 

“Nah, little girls always love Daddy the best.” Jim sticks out his tongue, finally pocketing his phone for the first time since they left his flat. “So, are we meeting Alicia in Cairo?” To tell the truth, Sebastian wasn’t sure where they were going beyond Egypt and not knowing made him antsy.

“We’ll probably end up there eventually, but we’re meeting your darling sister further in the desert.” Seb bites his lip and peers out the window again, able to spot the Nile as it cut a path through the golden dunes and past the occasional house. This far out, the only people you could be expected to see were the archaeologists, but most of them remained in the Valley of the Kings. “Are you nervous?”

“Of spending God only knows how long in the middle of the desert with you and my sister-in-law? I’d be an idiot not to be nervous, Boss.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You _are_ that bad.” Jim scoffs and looks away, but Seb can see the way he’s fighting against a smile. They were rare things with Jim, the real ones, and Seb always felt like it was a miracle when one was dragged out of him. Smiling himself, Sebastian looks out the window too and isn’t shocked to see yet more sand dunes and no Nile. It really was a dull view and he couldn’t understand why Alicia chose to spend her time so far out here in the first place.

 _American woman, stay away from me,_ The Guess Who blared from somewhere in the helicopter, _American woman, Mama let me be! Don’t come hanging around my door, I don’t want to see your face no more!_ ”

For a moment, Jim just bobbed his head along to it and then pulled his phone out of his pocket to stare at the screen in disinterest. The song continued a bit longer before he finally accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear. “We’re nearly there. Yes. Really? Well, that’s certainly interesting. What? I’ll deal with it when I get there. No, it’s alright. Of course that’s still your ringtone, darling, you know you love it. Yeah, bye.”

“Who was that?”

“Our resident Egyptologist.”

“And that’s the ringtone you decided on,” Seb laughs, giving him a disbelieving look. “God, she really must love it.”

“You should hear yours.” And that had Sebastian’s laughter cut short, suddenly wondering what it was. Surely nothing too embarrassing? But it was Jim and the man didn’t know what embarrassing meant. “Don’t look so sour, Tiger.” And Jim was smiling, the cheeky one that Seb was beginning to associate with teasing. “Oh, look, there’s our camp for tonight.” Sebastian peers out the window again, able to make out white tents and what looked like tables, but what really caught his attention was the giant message scrawled out in the sand.

_‘Land here, you moron.’_

“Looks like she’s feeling plucky today,” Seb says with a smirk.

“Isn’t she always?” The pilot lands the helicopter on the message without prompting, knowing Jim’s little quirks well enough by now. The old man had been around for far longer than Sebastian, always having a smile ready for Jim like some kind of substitute grandfather. “Thank you, Carsen.” The old man gives a nod and starts flipping switches, the blades slowly coming to a stop as Jim swung the door open and stepped out with Seb right behind him.

“Which tent do you suppose she’s in?” Music started up right after he asks, the song making Sebastian bite back a grin. Jim doesn’t bother hiding his, he and Sebastian sharing amused looks. There was no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that Alicia was a brave woman with no sense of self-preservation.

“Shall we follow the sound of Britney Spears?”

“After you, Boss." Jim led the way, singing along quietly to the song as he strolled through the sand towards the largest of the tents. Inside wasn’t as hot as outside, but the difference wasn’t much, the tent filled with a long folding table and matching chairs, all sorts of maps spread out and held down by pieces of equipment.

“ _Mama, please don’t cry_ ,” Alicia was singing louder than Jim, swaying in place as she studies one of the maps,” _I will be alright_.”

“Was that coincidence or did you plan it, Ally,” Jim asks to gain her attention. She looks at the men over her shoulder, brows arched just the slightest bit.

“It was either Criminal or Work Bitch, the former won out. Don’t just stand there like morons, find a chair and start studying terrain.” Jim stares at the folding seats in distaste, then looks down at the hundred pound suit he’d just gotten back from the tailor. With a huff, Alicia straightens up and points a threatening finger in Jim’s direction. To tell the truth, seeing such a tiny woman trying to intimidate the most dangerous man in London would make Sebastian grin for weeks to come. “Listen here, you either help me out with some of the research or I’ll break your cute little nose.”

“I’d really like to see you try.” She only got one step away from the table when Seb had his pistol trained on her, hand steady and finger resting just over the trigger. “You see, Ally, my Tiger’s faster than you’ll ever be.” Alicia eyes Seb for a minute, trying to decide if he’d really pull the trigger before standing down and forcing her shoulders to relax.

“Pick up a goddamn map and put that brain of yours to some use. We have to figure out the right path that won’t exhaust our resources. After all, in the middle of the desert, there aren’t many places to stop for drinks.”

“How far out do you suppose it is,” Sebastian asks, moving to look at the glass-encased map he’d seen in her office. He still couldn’t read it very well, the sharp lines and deities making no real sense compared to the other maps strewn across the table. Apparently, they were set up several miles away from civilization to avoid any curious on-lookers or anyone else that might be interested in Hamunaptra.

“I don’t know, but I’ve put out a phone call to this guy I met last year.” She runs the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping at the sweat before it could get in her eyes. That was one thing Seb definitely didn’t miss, that constant scorching heat that made him want to jump head first into the closest body of water, crocodiles be damned. “He and some of his men had tried holding the city against a group of assholes with rifles and horses, but they were run out.”

“I’ve heard that story before, but never thought it had any truth.”

“Well, there’s at least a kernel of truth in it considering he was able to describe a few things in detail.” Her dark grey eyes flick to Jim at this point, plump lips curling up into a smirk. “Our good buddy made a guest appearance in the sand.”

“Really,” Jim asks, suddenly looking interested again. “What happened?”

“My guy was standing near the foot of an Anubis statue and the sand started shifting under his feet.”

“That could’ve just been the wind, though.”

“That’s what I said, but then he got all red in the face and said that the wind couldn’t make the sand take on the shape of a human face. I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to believe him.” Jim was grinning, the closed-mouth one that meant he was actually fascinated and not just being dramatic. “I sent Anderson to the airport to pick them up, should be here by dinner time.”

“Are you accounting for the traffic?”

“We won’t have to worry about that, I used some of the funds in order to get them a helicopter. As long as my guy doesn’t pick a fight with the people in customs, we should be good to head out tomorrow morning.”

“Shouldn’t we travel at night,” Seb suggests. “Sleep through the heat and all that?”

“I thought about that, but it gets too cold at night and it’s harder to see.” She shrugs, more of her midsection revealed by the motion. Alicia’s never been the fashionista type, but she somehow managed to make high-waisted shorts and an AC/DC crop top look cute. “Besides, we’ll take a break when it gets too hot and go as far as we can until it gets too dark to travel. That sound good to you, Jim?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Jim murmurs with a nod. It was strange not to see him being the one planning things, all sorts of files and computers spread over the floor with him in the middle, cussing and ranting until it all seemed to click into place. “So, who exactly is your man with the information, Ally?”

“Captain John Watson.”


	5. Tiger Tattoos and New Arrivals

The fact that Seb would be seeing someone he’d trained with as a young man would be too weird for words. True, he and Watson hadn’t talked much since Sebastian had been aiming for the SAS and Watson just wanted to be a doctor and help other soldiers, but seeing someone from that part of his past made him nervous. He’d been a completely different person back then, a happy man that wasn’t hardened against the world.

Another weird thing would be having people refer to Jim as James Araneae to keep people from realizing that they were around the guy that caused certain documents to go missing from Downing Street. Of course, the Latin translation of his last name made it difficult for Seb to contain his laughter since several of the foreign workers referred to him as the Spider.

“Did you get lost, Tiger,” Jim asks as Seb walks into the main tent again.

“Nah, I was just having a look around,” Seb answers automatically. The camp wasn’t that big, mostly consisting of sand that got _everywhere_ and billowing tents that held some supplies, kept the horses cool, and would offer sleeping quarters for however many days this quest would take. “How’s it going in here?”

“No change.” And there really wasn’t one aside from the music. Jim and Alicia were still bent over maps with their colorful Sharpies, bobbing their heads along to a Fleetwood Mac song that had even Seb tapping his foot along to the beat. _Rhiannon_ , he recalls with a small sound of realization. It was catchy and much preferred to the entire playlist Ally had dedicated to Andrew Lloyd Webber.

“You’re a fun group.” With a grunt, he seats himself in the free chair between Jim and Ally, dragging his map closer to him. He’d always hated reading these things, more used to relying on his gut or GPS. This one was of an area with _“Lost Oasis?”_ written on the top in a bright purple Gel pen, a few arrows and cramped writing along the margins. He couldn’t read the handwriting, it looked more like chicken scratch than actual words.

"Why does he call you _Tiger_ ," Ally asks, though she doesn't look up from the map she was studying. They'd been doing that for what felt like hours and had only stopped long enough to change into fresh clothes for dinner. Seb had been grateful for his break, though he’s sure he’ll get whacked upside the head later for not coming straight back.

"Your guess is as good as mine." And to be completely honest, Seb couldn't figure that out either. Jim had just always called him that and Seb never thought to ask since Jim's moods were iffy at best.

"It's because he's got a tiger tattooed on his arse," Jim answers, sending a mischievous smile in Seb's direction. 

"But you called me that before we started having sex."

"I do thorough research before I allow anyone to do more than two jobs for me. If it makes you feel any better, I know Ally has the Eye of Ra tattooed on her lower back." He turns his dark eyes to Alicia, quirking up an eyebrow in amusement. "An interesting choice in tramp stamp if I do say so myself." Seb turns to look at his sister-in-law, grinning widely when he notices the dark red flush in her cheeks.

“Well, that certainly explains why all your clothes keep your lower back covered. Does Kelsey know about it?”

“Shut it,” she grumbles, tugging on the back of her old tank top. “I was eighteen and shit-faced and there was a tattoo parlor right across the street from the bar. The only good thing that came out of it was the fact that I get free touch-ups because I showed the tattoo artist my boobs.”

“You turn into a little ho when you’re drunk, don’t you?” She gives him a dry smile, sitting up straighter so she could look him in the eye without craning her head back too much.

“My brother-in-law and I obviously have that in common.”

“Easy, Alicia,” Jim says in warning, looking at her over the rim of his sunglasses,” I’m completely sober over here.” Alicia looks between the two and shakes her head, throwing her map back down on the table. “Giving up so soon?”

“Hard to come up with a path when you don’t even know which direction to go in.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” And Jim puts his map down as well, but Seb keeps squinting down at his. It was interesting, an entire area of desert with one small spec of green in the direct center of it. “What’s that?”

“Dunno,” Seb mutters, tilting his head to the right. “Ally, what’s this one about?” Alicia leans closer to get a look at it and then growls in frustration.

“A pet project,” she explains. “I told Anderson to pack up my maps for this section of Egypt and the idiot must’ve decided to grab this one as well.” She tries to take it, but Sebastian holds it out of her reach. “Come on, you’re gonna rip it.”

“Get it then, no one’s stopping you.” In fact, he _was_ stopping her, laughing as he stood to keep it above her head. She jumps up and down a few times, trying her best to snatch it out of his hand only to have him go up on the tips of his toes. The fun only stops when he feels a sharp pinch on his side that made him lower his arm on instinct.

“And _that_ ,” Jim says, smoothly taking the map out of his hand,” is how it’s done.” But he doesn’t hand the map over either, bringing it closer to his face to study the writing. “This is Ahm Shere, you’ve mapped it out.” He looks up and the way his brown eyes have widened tells Seb this is a big deal. “Is this map exact?”

“Not quite,” Ally tells him, walking over to look at it as well,” but I’m getting closer. There’s this temple in Thebes I’ve been meaning to check out, but I found some of these hieroglyphics when I was digging around in Luxor.”

“But it was formed _after_ that city was abandoned.”

“That’s what I said, but then I got to thinking—”

“Always a dangerous thing.”

“—what better place to hide pieces of a map than in the city people still thought of as being blasphemous? Think of it, no one wanted to be there after Akhenaten kicked it and that means the evidence would be safe.”

“Do you think there’s anything else there?”

“Probably, it’s just a matter of finding it. The hieroglyphics were on a piece of broken tile and the gist of them was that a piece of Mathayus is in the mourning tomb. Now, back then, the big place to guard things was in Thebes, and there’s only so many mourning tombs there.”

“I’d say you were a genius, but I’m here.”

“Hold on,” Sebastian interjects, holding up his hands to make the pair shut up. “I get that you two are nerds when it comes to Egyptian history, but what does that place have to do with Hamunaptra?” They had thrown so many names around that his head was spinning just trying to keep up with it all and he wondered if that’s what he and Jim sounded like to other people sometimes.

“It has absolutely nothing to do with Hamunaptra, Sebastian. Do try to keep up.” He sends Jim a look that practically screams _no sex if you keep this up_ , but he knows well enough by now that a carefully spoken innuendo from Jim will have him up and raring to go. “It’s not important right now, Tiger.”

“An adventure for another day?” He’d meant it as a joke, but the way Jim smirked made him realize that they probably would go looking for mister big-bad-and-probably-deadly soon enough. _Jesus, when did my life get this weird?_ “At least tell me we won’t have to be poring over maps for that trip.”

“Doesn’t appear so.” Jim holds up the map for Sebastian to see again, pointing at a spot near the bottom corner. “That’s Thebes, the place where the temple is, and it’s probably holding some sort of secret room.”

“Why can’t a mystical object be in London for a change? I mean, why does it have to include old temples, dusty cities, and occasional near-death experiences?”

“Because it’s more fun this way.” Sebastian was fully prepared to argue that he’d rather live to see his daughter’s second birthday, but the sound of helicopter blades cut him off. “Sounds like Watson’s arrived.” Jim strolls to the opening in the tent with the other two behind him, watching as the helicopter comes down near where the other one had been. “Hold on, there’s two people.”

“He mentioned bringing an associate,” Alicia says, having to yell in order to be heard,” said he was in some kind of trouble back home.”

“Will he be of any use?”

“He should be, he was the previous owner of the map.” Sebastian snaps his head down to stare at her and she gives a languid shrug. “It was inside some kind of metal thing, probably didn’t even know it was there.”

The helicopter blades slowly come to a stop and the door is opened, allowing a short man in old jeans and a jumper to get out. He was older than Sebastian remembered, his sandy blond hair was close to his head in a military fashion, a few more lines on his face, and the same pair of dark blue eyes that had always showed Watson’s emotions. Next was the companion, a tall and lanky man with pale skin and high cheekbones you could use to slice bread, his hair dark and curly, swept slightly to the side to keep it out of his eyes. He wore a simple pair of black pants, a white button-up, and a black suit jacket beneath a larger jacket with its collar popped up. He was attractive in an unconventional way, holding himself with a cool disinterest that had been practiced over the course of several years.

“Doctor Watson,” Ally greets, walking out to meet them with a smile meant for clients,” pleasure to see you again out of handcuffs.”

“Yeah, well, that waiter had it coming is all I’m going to say on the matter.” Sebastian snorts, wondering which one of them had hit a waiter and which had bailed the other out. “This is Sherlock Holmes, I told you about him on the phone.”

“Yes, hello.”

“Miss Mather,” Holmes greets with a stiff smile of his own. “John told me you are after Hamunaptra. Do you honestly think it’s real or shall we just check you into an asylum?”

“Mm, you and I are gonna have fun during our trip. I hope you don’t mind a few harmless pranks like scorpions in your sleeping bag or shaving cream in your pillow.” She turns sharply on her heel and practically stomps back over to the others. “Where’s Anderson?”

“Gathering the diggers,” Watson explains, giving polite nods to Sebastian and Jim. “He said to tell you that he’ll be here in a couple of hours to prepare supper. Um, would you like to introduce me?”

“Ask your old bestie to do that, I’m busy.” Seb rolls his eyes as Alicia begins to fiddle with her iPod, reaching out to shake Watson’s hand.

“Old bestie?”

“I think she means me, Johnny,” Seb says with a grin, baring all his teeth. Someone in primary school had called it a shark’s grin, said it was scary, so Seb made use of it often. “Nice to see you again.”

“Moran? Jesus, how long’s it been?”

“At least seven years. How’ve you been?”

“Good, I’ve been good. Sherlock has me running all over London helping him solve things, so I’m kept busy.”

“My boss does the same. He’s obsessed with treasure hunting.” Seb takes his hand back and nods in Jim’s direction. “This is James Araneae, the man supporting our little mission.” Jim gives a timid smile, taking on the role of a man who’s not used to being the center of attention. It was always weird to see his personality shift like that, an entirely different person filling Jim’s shoes instead of the usual egomaniac.

“Nice to meet you, Sir.” He and Watson shake hands quickly, Holmes following suit. The latter was close enough now that Seb could make out the way his eye color seemed to shift depending on the light, blue one moment and a startling green the next, those eyes always studying just like Jim’s.

_Great, now there’s two of them_.

The thought was depressing, to say the least.

“So, John,” Ally calls from the map table,” think you can find us a path to Hamunaptra?” Watson walks over to the table, looking over the assorted maps with something akin to embarrassment. Sebastian knew the other man could read maps without a problem considering he’d tutored Sebastian during their first year of training.

“About that,” Watson starts, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a nervous tell, kind of like when Jim’s nose twitches when he’s holding back the sass. “I have no idea where we are.” Ally points and murmurs something to him, Watson giving a nod as he grabs a Sharpie off the table. There was a whole cup of the things and even more in Jim’s bag, he loved the markers and would use them to color-code some of his documents. Seb’s was a pale yellow color, nearly the same shade as his hair.

_Speaking of…._

“If you all have this under control,” he states, running a hand through his shaggy hair,” I’m gonna go take care of something.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jim says, all too aware of how grating his new accent is. This Araneae persona came with the posh accent of one Sir Augustus Moran, the bastard that left Sebastian as fucked up as he is. Not that either of them would admit to that fact out loud, Augustus wanting to protect his reputation and Sebastian not wanting to think about the drunken beatings and disgusted sneers.

Biting back a remark, Seb turns and stalks to the tent he and Jim would be sharing for the remainder of the journey. It wasn’t overly large and would be easy to set up later, two foldable cots set up with the bags sitting on top of them. Seb digs through his bag until he finds the scissors and a bottle of water, setting them back on the bed so he could take off his shirt.

“Let me, Tiger.” It was back to the usual Irish drawl and Sebastian was glad for it. Seb sits down on the lone flimsy chair, tilting his head back so Jim could wet it and force a comb through the rats. He’d let his hair get too long and this heat would only continue to remind him of that, so he might as well take care of the problem now. “I like how your hair starts to curl.”

“Maybe Thalia’s will do the same.”

“I doubt it. Honeybear’s got beautiful hair, but it’s mostly straight.” _Honeybear_ , the nickname Jim had decided on for Thalia the day after she was born and everyone just went along with. The baby practically toddled after Jim whenever he came for a visit, letting him cart her around as he sent his clients messages and instructions. Sure, Jim wasn’t the type to roll around on the floor with her, but he wasn’t above holding her in his arms like a porcelain doll or taking pictures to show his father from time to time. Not that he actually enjoyed meetings with his father, Jim tried to avoid him until the holidays.

“Have you heard anything else from Kelsey?”

“Yes, she’s finally accepted the fact that I will be paying for Thalia’s hearing aids. They’re tiny and cute, just like my baby.”

“ _Your_ baby?”

“Considering the fact that I help to pay for her, I’d like to think I get to call her mine from time to time. Oh, maybe I can show her how to dissolve bodies when she’s older.”

“Ah, no, that’s not happening.” Seb doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Jim’s pouting and snipping Seb’s hair at the same time. Most people might be worried about telling a certifiably insane man with a pair of scissors no, but it was just another day at the office for Seb. “My daughter can learn how to protect herself and shoot any number of guns, but I draw the line at dismemberment and dissolving.”

“And that’s why I’m going to be the fun person in her life. She can spend her Saturdays with you teaching her how to take apart a rifle and her Sundays with me teaching her how to dismantle the government. Just think what she’ll be capable of once she’s fully grown.”

“I don’t want to, I want her to stay little and portable.”

“Mm, it’s certainly convenient.” As the weight of hair gets lighter, Seb allows himself to focus on the sound of the scissors and the feel of the comb as it runs through his hair. It was familiar, comfortable, something that Jim did often since he couldn’t stand the thought of Sebastian looking like a hippy. “All done.” Seb waits for a moment, listening to Jim moving around behind him until a small mirror is produced.

“Not bad.” The curl was mostly gone now, cut a little closer than before yet long enough for Jim to run his fingers through. It was a quirk, Jim playing with people’s hair when he was distracted and they were close enough. He’s spent hours talking on the phone to one of his clients—using a voice distortion app, of course—with Thalia cradled against his chest, fingers absently smoothing down the tuft of hair. “Think we should rejoin the others?”

“Why? I’ve got you all to myself for a small moment and I plan on taking advantage of it.”

“No attempt to seduce me, Boss?” Sebastian looks at him over his shoulder, taking in the way Jim’s eyes glittered in the dimming sunlight, his fingers twitching at his sides, and the way his head was tilted. Jim’s gaze was intense, the full force of it making Sebastian remember how long it’s been.

“Bed,” he orders,” now.”

* * *

It was dark by the time Anderson got supper finished and handed out to everyone, looking haggard and bone tired. Sebastian didn’t offer to help him, not after the way the other man had abandoned him to enemy soldiers all those years ago. It wasn’t long after that he’d been transferred and, going off the way Watson kept glaring, it was to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.

“Anybody got a good ghost story,” Jim asks on Sebastian’s right. It was appropriate considering they were all seated around a campfire and were on a mission to find a city of death.

“Is that a good idea,” Alicia asks, sitting across the fire. She held a mug of coffee in her hands, sipping from it occasionally and burying the toes of her boots in the sand. “I mean, we’re heading off to a place that’s supposed to host an undead creature that wants to take over the world.”

“Precisely, Ally.” She makes a face at that and shakes her head, clearly not amused. While Jim was all too happy to make light about death, Alicia took this sort of thing seriously. From what Seb can remember, she’s spent most of her life trying to find even a shred of proof that Hamunaptra is the real deal and now she’s finally going to see the place for herself. It would be like Sebastian making a joke of Jim’s web of criminals or something.

“Trust me, Mister Araneae, you don’t need any ghost stories,” Watson assures him, staring fixedly at the crackling logs. Seb’s seen that look before, utterly lost in whatever memory is conjured by thoughts of Hamunaptra. He’d had the same problem for years after coming back from the war, unable to look at his own scars without remembering how he’d received them in vivid detail. “Take one look at the place and you realize that all the stories that used to scare you as a child are a bunch of rubbish.”

“Can you tell us about it? I mean, about why you were there in the first place?” There’s a moment where Watson just continues to stare at the fire, lost somewhere far away from them until Holmes wrapped his pale, spindly fingers around Watson’s arm to bring him back.

“My commander asked for volunteers and I figured they could use a trained doctor since most of the people that decided to go were all boys. I didn’t believe it was real, thought my commander was full of himself and just wanting more glory and shiny metals to parade around Kabul. We took a plane to Cairo that looked like it was held together solely by tape, bartered for some horses and supplies.” He takes a deep breath, reaching out to squeeze Holmes’ hand to make sure he was still there. Then he continued in a soft voice that held the slightest tremble. “It was just shy of dawn when we got there and the sun was glinting off the bones of people who’d showed up before us, stained red from old blood and the sunrise. They were just sticking up out of the sand like plants, picked clean by birds.

I didn’t have time to focus on the bones, though, because then the sun was just on the horizon and _it was there_. An entire city just appeared out of nowhere and we were charging for it like madmen, just happy to find shelter and shade. I think we had until sunrise the next morning to feel happy, then this tribe of desert people were out for blood. They believed in the curse of the mummy, that a bunch of Brits were just dumb enough to set it loose on the world, and they would paint the sand with our blood to ensure it didn’t happen. My commander was the first to retreat, a few other men went with him until it was basically me and Anderson in charge.”

“I can imagine how well that went,” Seb remarks, sending a dark look in the rat’s direction. He had the good sense to look ashamed, blue eyes darting to the ground to avoid meeting Seb’s glare.

“I don’t think you can, Moran. We were all lined up neat and pretty, rifles at the ready, and then the tribe crashed into us like a wave. Damn near knocked me off my feet, they were so fast. Can’t remember much once they were on us, but I remember sounding retreat and making for one of the tombs when Anderson closed the door in my face.” It’s his turn to send Anderson a nasty look. “I ran as fast and far as I can, took out as many as I could, and was pretty much resigned to dying by the time I tripped over ol’ Jackal Face.”

“Anubis,” Ally corrects on instinct.

“Yeah, that arsehole. Anyway, I tripped over him, got shot for all my troubles, and nearly had a heart attack along with my enemies when the sand started whipping around and forming faces. I grabbed the closest horse and hauled ass all the way back to Cairo, half-dead and wondering if I had hallucinated the entire thing. I figure the bullet wound alone earned me an honorable discharge and a stiff drink.”

“Or at least a Purple Heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word “Araneae” stems from Greek mythology of the goddess Araneae who was turned into a spider.


	6. The Trail We Blaze

They started out early the next morning, Seb still mostly asleep as he climbed into the saddle. He’d barely been able to get dressed that morning, let alone eat, but he’d managed somehow and now they were several miles from where they started with the sun crawling slowly up into the sky. The higher it went, the hotter it became and Seb was suddenly grateful that Alicia had thrown a pair of shorts at his head first thing that morning.

“It’s pretty much a straight line from here,” Watson says, quiet and carefully void of the fear from last night. “We’ll be there in two days as long as our horses last.”

“They’ll be fine,” Ally says, munching absently on some leftover bacon. None of the diggers would touch the stuff, so there was more than enough for a good part of the day. “I’ve planned enough of these trips to know how much water to bring along to compensate for animals and people. The only thing we have to worry about is applying sunscreen regularly.” At this, she sends Jim a look and the man just scoffs.

“You spend a lot of time around here?”

“Obviously,” Sherlock states, those cool eyes looking around the group. “Her tan’s darker than it would be if she spent her days in America, she’s experienced enough to know exactly how much supplies to bring along, and the diggers behind us know her schedule to a tee, which means she uses them each time she comes here.” Seb arches a brow at the long-winded explanation, sharing a look with Jim. “Besides, I heard her talking to Mister Araneae about it earlier this morning.”

“You could’ve just said that last bit without all the rest, you know.”

“The way I did it was more fun.” His sharp, Cupid’s bow lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk and Watson was trying his best to muffle his own smile. It was strange to see someone else do the deducing thing that Jim likes, speaking faster than most people could comprehend and with such surety. Jim was staring at Sherlock like he could see the way the other man’s mind worked, all the turning gears and blinking lights.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure everyone here likes having their entire life deduced by a smartass.”

“Nah,” Ally says with a shake of her head,” it’s cool.” She was remarkably relaxed most of the time, taking things in stride with a smile that would make even Willie Nelson look tense half the time. It tended to get on Kelsey’s nerves, but it was a lifesaver when she Skyped in order to talk to Thalia. “I figure we’ll ride until around noon, set up one of the tents so we can have some cold cuts and a break from the heat, then we’ll start up again once the sun starts to go down.”

“That’s smart, don’t need any of us to get too hot before we even get to the city.”

“Exactly my thinking, John.” There was quiet for a while after that, all of them trying to cope with the rising temperature in their own ways. Seb just wished there was enough water to dump on his head, but even he had it better than Jim. The other man had dressed in his usual suit minus the jacket, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead and the nape of his neck. He looked miserable, but he was too proud to admit that he needed a break in order to change clothes.

It was almost four hours later before Ally finally called for them to stop, the diggers and Anderson dismounting and starting on the shelter while the others tended to the horses. “You think we could buy one of the diggers from Alicia,” Jim asks quietly, eyeing the way the men worked diligently without complaint.

“Not a chance, Boss,” Sebastian answers with a smile. “She pays them well and she’s kind to them, respects their culture better than a lot of people who would hire them during the digging season. Kid’s been coming here with her dad since she was five, grew up with a few of the diggers, so she has their total loyalty as well.”

“Well, that’s no fun.” Jim let the subject drop, but he didn’t stop looking at the men every now and then, the way they did whatever was asked of them as long as it came directly from Alicia; Alicia worked alongside them, not one to shirk manual labor. “Here, drink up, Tiger.”

“Thanks.” He takes the bottle of water from Jim, sighing in relief as the water soothes his dry throat. It was hard to keep the water cold in the desert, the heat melting their ice faster than they could refill it, but he was at the point where he’d drink anything so long as it was wet. “How’re you feeling?”

“Getting sentimental, Sebastian,” Jim asks with a smug grin.

“Hardly, I just don’t need the man who writes my paycheck to die of heat exhaustion.” Jim snorts and takes the bottle back, drinking deeply and closing his eyes. “Come on, let’s get you in the shade.” Jim let himself be led to the tent, practically collapsing in one of the folding chairs near Sherlock. “Everything okay, Ally?”

“It’s awesome,” the blonde answers distractedly. She was tapping away on her phone, occasionally mouthing a curse at the whatever was on the screen. Curious, he moves to stand behind her chair and looks at the phone with his chin on her shoulder.

“Candy Crush? Are you serious?”

“It was either this or Cluedo.”

“Ah, no,” Watson says loudly,” not with Sherlock around.”

“Does he cheat,” Seb asks, looking over at his old friend.

“Makes an art of it.”

“It was one time,” Sherlock protests, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child,” and it’s wasn’t cheating, John. It’s perfectly natural for the victim to have committed the crime.” Jim opened his mouth, but Seb cuts him off with a look. They had played only once and it had ended with Seb half-naked, Jim in a chokehold, and the game entirely forgotten as they argued over the rules.

“If I’ve told you once, then I’ve told you a thousand times, _that’s not in the rules!_ ”

“If that’s cheating, then you aren’t allowed to play Operation anymore!” Watson just rolls his eyes and gives Sherlock a fond smile, the budding emotions in his blue eyes a mixture of friendship and something more. He was developing feelings for the dark-haired genius, but he was too far in the closet to admit it just yet.

“Children,” Sebastian interrupts loudly,” if you can’t get along, then I’ll make you both sit in a corner.”

“I’d like to see you try, Moran.”

“I’m sure you would, Sherlock.” Seb gives the man a flirty smirk, but Sherlock only narrows his eyes the slightest bit. He was deducing again, the little hamster running on its wheel just fast enough that he knows Seb was only half-teasing. Pale geniuses with dark hair and the occasional drug problem seemed to be Sebastian’s type lately. “Alright, what have we got for lunch?”

“Uh,” Jim says, reaching into one of the ice chests,” looks like we’ve got fruit, water, and…. Beef Jerky?”

“And vegetarian jerky,” Alicia states with a shrug,” best things to have in the middle of the desert.” The diggers seemed to agree, finding their own spots in the shade and munching on some frozen grapes and the veggie jerky. They were a quiet lot, mainly speaking amongst themselves and occasionally including Ally, though they completely ignored Anderson.

“You used individual Ziploc baggies?”

“Rations for each day we’ll be out here.”

“Smart.”

“I’m well aware of that fact, Jim.” Jim sends her _the look_ , which usually means he’s either going to flay her or he’s imagining it. Honestly, Seb wouldn’t put either of those options past his boss at this point. “Throw me some of the cucumber slices with my name on them.” Jim digs around for a moment before pulling out the baggie with _Alicia Mather_ written on it in bright yellow Sharpie, tossing it to her almost lazily.

The conversation is fairly dull as they start to eat, everyone more focused on the semi-frozen fruit and the water. Once they had finished and caught a few hours of sleep, they set out again, following along the same invisible path until it was too dark to continue. Everyone helped to set up the tents that night before they were allowed to eat. It was more water and some smoked meat, the diggers preferring more fruit and the veggies that Ally had the foresight to bring along. It wasn’t until he and Jim were in their tent again that Seb realized just how hot Jim had been in his tailored suit.

“Fucking Christ,” the shorter man snarls, almost ripping off the waistcoat and shirt he’d worn all day.

“Get a little hot today, Boss,” Sebastian asks with a smirk, lounging on his cot and watching on in amusement.

“That’s an understatement.” Not that he wouldn't put on another nice suit in the morning, Jim was nothing if not dedicated to his Westwood collection. “I’m half tempted to raid your bags in the morning.” Jim kicks his trousers off, reluctantly pulling on his pajamas as the temperature continues to drop.

“Come here, you big baby, I’ll keep you nice and warm tonight.”

Jim’s only response to that is to give Seb the finger.

* * *

The next day is pretty much how the first one went, endless riding and a sore arse by the time they stop for the night. The night passed with Jim curled up against Sebastian’s chest and Sebastian’s hands cuffed behind his back because,” I simply don’t do mutual cuddling, Sebastian, it’s stupid.” The third morning, however, is completely different. Well, not at first since Sebastian’s arse was still sore and he was beginning to remember why he never rode much as a child, but by the time the sun is actually rising, Watson was sitting up straighter in his saddle.

“Is it here,” Sherlock asks, eyes darting around to spot any type of city as they all come to a stop on a dune.

“Just hold tight,” Watson says in return, eyes on the horizon. Sebastian moves his horse closer to his old friend’s, trying to find anything that made Watson realize this was the right spot. It took a moment, but then he realized the faint rays of sunlight were glinting off something a few feet ahead of them; white, almost like pearls, barely poking out of the golden sand.

“Human bones, those are human bones.”

“That they are, Sherlock.” Watson’s lips were pressed tightly together and Seb didn’t have to be a genius to realize those bones belonged to Watson’s old unit. It had to be a difficult thing to be doing this all over again, fighting against possible flashbacks of a bloody war and ululating screams as bullets ripped through the air and swords clashed against rifle barrels.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Where’s Hamunaptra?”

“We’re about to be shown the way.” That’s when it happened, a city slowly forming like a mirage in front of them; flickering in and out of view and growing stronger as the sun crawls ever upwards and the purple of twilight lifts, painting everything in hues of scarlet and pink. The city stabilized a few minutes later, a towering building with crumbling walls and obelisks surrounding it; everything made up of the sandstone that Egyptians had been so fond of at the time.

“Hey,” Sebastian smirks,” five hundred bucks says I can beat you there, Watson.”


	7. Finding the Entrance

It took a grand total of two minutes to make it to Hamunaptra, and another five before the cash was eventually handed over to Sherlock because the little shit had beat them all into the city with Watson and Sebastian tying for second place. Anderson had thought the entire thing funny until he got a shovel to the face from Jim. “What,” he asks with a lazy shrug,” I don’t like him.”

“Remind me to stay on his good side,” Watson says to Seb, shaking his head a little in wonderment. “On the other hand, he has a nice swing.”

“Yeah, you should see what he’s like in bed,” Sebastian returns,” surprisingly agile for someone so short.”

“Easy, Moran, I’m his height.”

“And I’m sure Sherlock loves you for it.” Watson makes a face of supreme agitation at that, hands on his hips as he looks up at Sebastian. He wouldn’t lie, seeing Watson so flustered was a pretty good turn on.

“For the last time, I’m _not_ gay.”

“Let me know when you stroll out of the closet.” Watson frowns, wiping stubbornly at a bit of sand that was sticking to his face. It was doing that to everyone, their sweat and the occasional breeze working against them where the sand is concerned. “So, how’re you feeling about being here again?”

“I’m f—” But Sebastian sent him a stern look that he’d developed the day his daughter decided eating his shoelaces was cool, the expression making Watson have the same reaction. His lips twist and he looks down for a moment before meeting Sebastian’s gaze again. “Alright, it’s awful, but I made a deal and I could use the money.”

“I hear ya. James is loaded and he’s basically changed from my boss to my sugar daddy. Not that I’m complaining, but I could do without the random Rhianna songs in the middle of the night.”

“Funny, Sherlock does the same thing except it’s normally him playing the damn violin.”

“You know what we should do, don’t you?” Watson arches a brow, his own grin widening to match Seb’s. “Sometime tonight, when the two are sound asleep, we should hook Ally’s iPod up to the speaker and blast Metallica.”

“Moran, I have missed your evil genius.”

“Yeah, I have a talent.” Seb winks and strolls over to where the diggers are working, a few of them actually digging to find an entrance while Ally and another one are working to clean a giant disk. Seb still didn’t know everyone’s names yet, but he was slowly getting there. “What’s that, Alicia?”

“Ancient mirror,” the digger answers for her, wiping at his damp forehead with the back of his hand. “They’re used to light the halls so we won’t have to rely solely on flashlights.” The kid spoke pretty good English, though it was heavily accented and hard to understand in places. He was tall and scrawny with shaggy brown hair and equally dark skin, but his eyes were a brilliant blue. “I am Bari.”

“And I’m Sebastian.” The two shake hands, sharing polite grins before Bari goes back to work. “How’d you learn to speak such fluent English?”

“My mother is from Wales and she insisted that I learn it when I was younger. My father wasn’t very pleased about it, but she was able to win him over in the end.” Bari’s grin widens at the mention of his parents and Sebastian felt his gut twist in jealousy. His own mother is a wonderful woman, but Augustus was the complete opposite and had no qualms about slapping anyone in his family that he thought was out of line. “Do you know much about ancient Egypt, Sebastian?”

“Not much apart from the whole mummification thing. I’ve never been a history buff.”

“That’s a shame, the culture is really fascinating.”

“Bari,” another of the diggers snaps,” focus on your work and leave Mister Moran alone.”

“Yes, _Abbi_.” While most of Seb’s Arabic was completely trash, he knew that word meant _father_ and, now that he was looking, could see the two men shared the same high cheekbones and prominent ears.

“No, it’s fine," Sebastian says quickly," it’s nice to have someone to talk to that isn’t full of themselves.” And it was, Jim was always playing a role around Watson and Sherlock, Alicia was too absorbed in her work, Watson and Sherlock seemed to be locked in their own world when they’re around each other, and Anderson would get another shovel to the face if Seb tried to talk to him. Bari was the closest he’s come so far to anything interesting.

“He must do his job,” Bari’s father says,” no time for talking.” Alicia looks up at that, saying something to the older man in fluent Arabic. Of course she’d know the language like the back of her hand, she was practically raised here when she was younger. “You do not pay him to talk, Miss Mather.”

“No,” Alicia agrees, in English this time,” but he’s only seventeen, Munir, and I think he’s earned some polite conversation. Remember what we talked about when I agreed to let him join us?” Munir looked as exasperated as any grown man was able, reaching out to flick the blonde’s ear.

“If you weren’t like family, I would pay you no attention.”

“But _I am_ like family and I’m adorable.” He scoffs, adjusting his hold on the shovel before digging again. Seb raises his brows at the exchange, giving Alicia a look that demanded answers. “Munir and his wife used to babysit me during the digging season, so he’s basically an uncle.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t killed you yet if you were half as annoying in childhood as you are now,” Sebastian remarks with a shake of his head.  

“Me too, come to think of it.”

“Moran,” Jim calls,” get over here and make yourself useful.” With a roll of his eyes, Sebastian crosses the several feet of space to stand next to Jim and an enormous pillar. Like most of the other architectural bits making up the city, the pillar was made of sandstone; about as wide as a car and taller than Seb could really make out because of the glaring sunlight. “Tie us a rope around this thing.”

“Any particular reason,” he asks, arching a brow.

“So you look like you’re doing a job and Holmes won’t think I’m just using you as arm candy.” Jim pauses as he thinks over his words, giving a toothy grin afterwards. “That does seem to be your main purpose, though. You could probably get us into Buckingham Palace by bending over in front of the Queen.”

“And to think you made fun of me for doing squats.”

“Most hardened snipers don’t do squats while talking gibberish to their children.”

“Thalia doesn’t do one-sided conversations, she’s a bit like you in that.”

“Did you just compare me to a one year old?”

“I got a whole list of the things you and Thalia have in common if you want to hear it. It’s alphabetized.” Jim’s nose twitches, a familiar tic that meant people were nearby and he couldn’t yell all the insults he was biting back. Smirking, Seb wraps the rope around the pillar and begins to tie it into a knot that would hold. “So, aside from evil mummies, what exactly are you and the blonde hoping to find out here?”

“A couple books that may or may not have mystical powers of death and resurrection.”

“ _What_ ,” Sebastian laughs, sending his boss a skeptical look. “This coming from the man who goes above and beyond to prove those street magicians in New York wrong? The same man who leaves bad Yelp reviews on any magic show we’ve attended and some we haven’t?”

“This is different.”

“How so? I mean, they’re just some stupid books that probably disintegrated by now.”

“They’re made of gold and onyx respectively.” Now _that_ caught Seb’s interest, looking away from the rope again so he could face Jim. The other man gave a knowing smile, hands in his trouser pockets and his thin brows raised just the slightest amount. “I don’t believe in the magic, but I do have a fondness for expensive things that look nice in my living room.”

“Now _that_ I believe.”

“Hey, losers,” Alicia calls from Sebastian’s left,” smile!” Jim and Seb looked up in time to be blinded by a camera flash, black dots floating in front of their eyes for a second as they regained their bearings.

“Ally, take another picture of me and I’ll break your nose.”

“Suck it up, buttercup.” She strolls over to the men with a happy smile, practically fucking skipping despite her boots sinking into the sand. “What’cha doin’?”

“Looking busy so Jim can check out my ass apparently.”

“Mm,” Jim hums. “A worthy cause, I assure you.” Seb rolls his eyes, finishing with the knot and taking a step back. Things seemed to happen quickly after that, the ground beneath Sebastian’s feet opening up and sending him into a freefall of darkness. The only thing that stopped him from plummeting all the way down was his tight hold on the rope, jerking him to a sudden halt halfway down. “You still alive down there?”

“As far as I can tell,” Seb calls back, blinking loose sand out of his eyes.

“What can you see?” Below him was mostly dark, but he could make out the faint shine of iron and the smell of old things. Actually, it smelled exactly like his grandfather’s old workshop, minus the moth balls, like it hadn’t been opened in centuries. “Sebastian!”

“It’s too dark to tell for sure. Throw me a torch!” Jim and Ally’s heads disappear for a moment and then a lit flashlight is being tossed down, Sebastian having to fumble a second or two in order to catch the damn thing without falling. He aims the flashlight at the ground below, not seeing any venomous snakes or zombies. “It’s a room!”

“Is it safe,” Watson asks, him and the others gathering around the hole.

“Why don’t you jump down here and find out?” Watson gives him an unamused look, only Jim letting out loud huff of laughter. “Give me a second to look around.” With the flashlight tucked into the back pocket of his shorts, Seb begins the climb down the rope, cursing under his breath as it bites into the palms of his hands. _I should’ve taken those gloves Ally offered when I had the chance_. It didn’t take him long to reach the ground, flashlight back in hand so he could see if any ancient booby traps would send a boulder crashing down on him. As far as he could tell, the room was mostly inhabited by cobwebs and large rocks that stopped at his knees. “It’s all good down here!”

“Watch out, Moran, I’m coming down!” Sebastian steps to the side away from the rope, pointing his flashlight upwards so Watson and the others could see to come down. In the end, a couple of diggers were left outside in case there was an emergency, everyone else crowding into the large room with Sebastian.

“Do you realize we’re standing inside a chamber that no one’s even seen for over three-thousand years,” Alicia asks, staring around her in reverent awe. She looked like a kid in a candy store, staring around with wide eyes.

“The smell kind of gives that away.” She shoots Watson a friendly smile before moving over to the iron thing Seb had noticed earlier. “Hey, isn’t that another one of those mirror thingies?”

“Yep, check this out.” She wipes the cobwebs off of the large disk and angles it up towards the opening, beams of sunlight bouncing around the room to the other mirrors before settling into a comfortable glow. It was like she’d just flipped on a light switch in her living room as unfazed as she was.

“Neat trick,” Sebastian allows. “An even neater one would be telling me just where the hell we are in this place.”

“We’re in the sah-netjer.”

“The mummy-making place,” Jim translates when only he and Alicia seemed to grasp it. “They’d bring them in here, prepare them for burial, and then move them elsewhere. Honestly, did none of you pay attention to your history classes?” It took all of Seb’s restraint—and the knowledge that Jim wouldn’t hesitate to put Nair in his shampoo again—not to smack the know-it-all look off Jim’s face.  “Come on, Tiger, let’s go exploring.”

“Fine,” Sebastian says,” but if any mummies come back to life, I blame you.” Since he was the one with a pistol and the flashlight, Seb leads the way to a narrow tunnel, everyone falling in step behind him with Watson bringing up the rear with his own pistol. They barely made it five feet when a loud skittering noise started up all around them, like hundreds of beetles scurrying over stone. “Please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.”

“Did you think it was normal bugs?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it was probably something much worse.”

“Thanks, Jim, you’re real great at this comforting shit.” Jim shrugs with that toothy grin showing, his teeth almost glowing in the darkness. “Let’s get this over with. Where are we going exactly?”

“Well, those snobs at Bembridge said there’s supposed to be a hidden compartment at the feet of Anubis,” Alicia says,” so just keep following this tunnel until we find him.”

“Watson, does it seem to you that these two experts are crap at their jobs for the most part?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that you mention it,” Watson states, voice echoing off the stone,” pretty much. Where’d you get your degree, Alicia?”

“Don’t got one,” she answers, her southern drawl more pronounced than usual. “I basically learn as I go along, Doc.” Seb can hear someone scoff, probably Sherlock, and then a loud yelp as another someone runs smack into a wall. “Bari, I told you to stick close for a reason.”

“Yes, Miss Mather,” came the dejected voice of the young digger. It was another ten minutes and a few turns before the tunnel began to widen a little, allowing Jim to walk beside Sebastian and help guide him through the maze.

“So, Anubis is that jackal-headed guy,” Seb asks quietly as they walked.

“That’s right,” Jim nods. “He’s the one responsible for guarding the dead and watching over the funeral rites. Actually, the Egyptian version of his name was something along the lines of Anpu, but most people know him better by the Greek version. He’s one of my favorites.”

“Is that why they buried one of those books with him?”

“They probably thought it was best since most people wouldn’t think of rooting around at his feet. They were superstitious back then, thought that the sacrilege would bring the wrath of the gods down on their heads.” Like always when he was talking about a subject he knew like the back of his hand, Jim was entirely relaxed, the information coming easily and freely.

“Hey, I see some light up ahead.” Seb really hoped it was a new chamber, because the tight quarters of this tunnel was making him oversensitive to everything. He could still hear a few bugs against the stone, sand shifting under their feet, the feel of Jim’s arm against his; it was all getting to be too much, so it was a major relief when they left the tunnel behind for a room. It looked to be quite a bit bigger than the last one, the only decoration being the massive bottom half of a statue and several larger boulders cracked at the base.

“Sebastian, say hello to Anubis.”


	8. Let the Digging Begin

“Alright, guys, look for a seam,” Alicia orders once everyone had filed into the chamber. “Once you find it, you let me know and you _do not_ attempt to open it. Bari, you wanna take over translating the hieroglyphics?” The blue-eyed digger didn’t look very confident, but he kept his head up and brought out a pencil and notebook to write down his findings.

“Why can’t we just open it when we find it,” Seb asks, hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had no clue how to find a seam in all that rock, so he would just stay out of the way.

“Because ancient civilizations were fond of booby traps,” Sherlock answers, looking at Sebastian as though he was the biggest moron this side of Cairo. “Dear God, you really are just here to look pretty.” Watson clears his throat loudly, he and Sherlock sharing a look that spoke volumes. “Apparently, that was rude.”

“Ya think? Jesus, I’m surprised Watson hasn’t stuffed a gag in your mouth.”

“I found it,” Munir calls, everyone moving to huddle around him. How the man had managed it, Sebastian would never understand; the rock was separated by thin lines that cut it into squares and the seam had been hidden amongst them. “Miss Mather, how would you like to proceed?”

“Well, Sherlock’s right about the booby traps,” Alicia says, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I’ve got Dynamite,” Watson offers, already digging around inside his pack. When no one responds, he glances up and gives a sheepish grin at the incredulous looks he was receiving from everyone. “I take it that no one’s up for that approach?”

“You blow us to pieces and I’ll be the ghost that kicks your ass, Doc.” Watson shrugs and adjusts the strap of his bag, smiling a little. Leave it to John Watson to be the first to volunteer to blow shit up. _I’m honestly surprised Jim didn’t jump on that opportunity_. But he was in-character and Araneae was a somewhat meek man that had an interest in preserving history, not a lunatic with a tendency to set things on fire. _That_ was something Seb had learned at two in the morning when he realized Jim had set fire to a book of baby names in the middle of the living room.

 _We hadn’t even settled on one for Thalia yet, I hadn’t lived there for a week, and he let his crazy out in full swing_.

“Uh… Ropes and hooks will do the trick and hopefully we’ll all survive to talk later,” Alicia says with a shrug. That didn’t put Sebastian at ease, instinctively reaching out an arm to keep Jim away from the statue. He knew his boss fairly well by now and didn’t have the slightest doubt that James Moriarty would want to be as close to trouble as he could get. _Fucking adrenaline junky_. Not that Sebastian could complain, he was definitely the kettle in that shared defect. “Back the fuck up or I’m not responsible for what happens!”

" _Yalla_ ,” Munir orders,” _imshi!"_ Once the hooks were in place, the diggers joined everyone else on the fringes of the room, each of them yanking back on their ropes and forcing a stone slab to fly onto the floor, cracking in two on impact. The trap was instantaneous, a pale vaper hissing out and splattering the toes of Sebastian’s boots, eating through the leather until he buried them in the sand with a curse.

“What the fuck was that,” he demands.

“Pressurized salt acid. Had anyone been closer, they would have died horribly.” Seb looks to Jim, finding the little psycho grinning. _Leave it to me to find the craziest man in the world and decide he’s the guy for me_.

“Remind me never to open anything down here.”

“Yeah,” Watson nods in agreement,” same here. I’d rather not look like the Nazi guy from Raiders.” And that was a visual Sebastian really didn’t need in his head at the moment, grimacing. “What’s in there?” The diggers move forward cautiously, pulling on heavy-duty gloves to handle the object inside without worrying of any acid dripping onto their hands or arms.

The object they set down is a large box, probably the size of Seb’s old TV from the 90’s, made up of dark wood, there’s a panel of onyx on either side of it and a square along the top with hieroglyphics carved into it, a pair of Egyptians painted so they were flanking the onyx on the sides. The diggers set it down gently, moving away so the others could kneel in front of it for a good look.

“Anyone got a guess about what this is,” Alicia asks.

“Is it a billion pound chest,” Sebastian asks, watching as Jim pulls a handkerchief out of his vest pocket to wipe off the top of the chest. Something like this, hidden away for so long, had to be worth a ton and he could probably send his future great-grandkids to college with ease.

“No,” Munir shakes his head, thick brows furrowed as he looks down at it.

“Is it a _million_ pound chest?”

“Mister Moran, I would not hold my breath if I were you. Chests don’t sell well, but what’s inside them might.” Seb moved to yank the lid off the chest, but Watson grabbed his wrist tightly.

“Let them translate it in case it’s hiding another nasty surprise,” Watson advises with a warning look. That image of Toht’s face melting like Jell-O came back to the forefront of Sebastian’s mind and he quickly shuffles back a small ways. “What does the writing say, Ally?” Alicia studies it in silence for a few moments, lips barely moving and her fingers grazing the worn top.

“Well,” she states after a while,” this is either cursed as all hell or it’s filled with ancient naughty toys. Take your pick.” With a scowl, Jim nudges her out of the way and takes up to reading it, the ancient Egyptian rolling off his tongue smoothly. It was always weird to hear him speak a new language, but this one was by far the most beautiful. “What’s your conclusion, James?”

“Cursed,” Jim says matter-of-factly,” definitely cursed.”

“Curse, my arse,” Holmes scoffs, though Watson’s elbow to his side had him letting out undignified _oof_. “Why don’t you read it in English for all of us to understand, Mister Araneae?” Jim arches a single brow, sending Holmes a look that could be deadly if he didn’t have dirt on his nose.

“ _Death will come on swift wings to whomsoever opens this chest_ ,” Jim translates, sounding too loud in the sudden, stifling quiet. The diggers that knew English were translating quietly for the others, all except Munir looking uncertain. As if the desert itself was against the idea of the chest being found, a strange wind starts up, low in the tunnels and reminding Seb of whispers. Another, stronger gust sends most of the diggers running back towards the mummification tunnel, shouting in Arabic the entire way.

“That was comforting.”

“They’re a superstitious lot,” Bari says with a shrug of one thin shoulder. “Any mention of a curse and they run for the hills.” The seventeen year old didn’t look bothered in the slightest and his father remained stoic as he always was. In fact, the only remaining person that looked at all spooked was Anderson.

“What else does it say,” Holmes interjects before anyone else could speak. He looked interested despite everything, staring down at the ancient writing even if he couldn’t read it.

“ _There is one, the undead_ ,” Jim continues, pausing every now and then to make sure the translation was accurate,” _who, if brought back to life, is bound by sacred law_ _to consummate this curse. He will kill all who open this chest and assimilate their organs and fluids, and in so doing, he will regenerate and no longer be the undead, but a plague upon this earth._ ”

“Let’s all make a promise not to bring any dead fellas back to life,” Alicia murmurs, looking around uneasily. The wind had started up again somewhere further down the tunnel, a faint whispering noise that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There was something unspeakably creepy about being in a forgotten city, so far from civilization or help of any kind should something go horribly wrong.

“You don’t actually believe in this sort of thing, do you?”

“I wouldn’t have attempted to steal Tut’s mummy if I did, but it’s always smart to be cautious.”

“You tried to steal King Tut,” Anderson demands in his high, nasally voice. “What sane person would want to do that?”

“Keep it up and I’ll set the fucker in your apartment, Ferret Face.” Anderson smartly closes his mouth, lips pressed so tightly together that they disappeared. “Alright, let’s crack this baby open.” But Anderson was shaking his head, running after the diggers before Alicia could even get a good grip on the lid.

“Man’s got a yellow streak down his back that’s a mile wide,” Watson says, frowning after the other man. “D’you suppose this thing’s boobytrapped as well?”

“Nah, we should be good.” But even she hesitated to open the chest now, slim fingers just rubbing the edge of it. “Any volunteers?” Sebastian planted his booted foot firmly on Jim’s shiny leather shoe, grinding his heel into it to keep the other man from doing the honors. It was Sebastian’s job to protect Moriarty and he’d be damned if he let the idiot go and curse himself.

“I’ll do it,” Bari offers, stepping forward. Despite his unfazed appearance, Munir grabs the back of his son’s shirt and yanks him back roughly. “ _Abbi_ …?” Munir gives a curt shake of his head, glaring down at the chest like it was personally responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened to him. Alicia bites her lip and tightens her hold on the edge of the lid, tensing to pull it off when the sound of echoing voices reached them.

“What the hell?”

“Who else did you invite to this dig,” Jim demands, glowering at the blonde woman as she straightens up.

“No one, James.” She was just as confused at the rest of them, instinctively stepping behind Watson when he and Sebastian pulled their pistols out. “The treasure is well-known, but we’re the only ones with a guy that’s actually been here.”

“And I haven’t told anyone we were leaving,” Watson adds, blue eyes focused on the mouth of the tunnel. The voices grow louder the closer the people come, Sebastian unable to tell how many there were because of the echo. After an agonizing three minutes, the first of the group enter the chamber, freezing when they catch sight of the group already there.

“Hey, we got company,” the person, a young man, shouts to the others. He wasn’t particularly interesting, tall and sharing a faint resemblance with Holmes, his hair a lighter brown and curly. It would be easy for this one to disappear into a crowd, but Sebastian keeps his pistol even with the man’s head. “Donovan, I thought your guy said they wouldn’t be here yet!”

“Obviously he was mistaken,” called the person named Donovan. She comes inside a second later, thin and pretty with dark skin and corkscrew curls. She was dressed in nice slacks and a tee shirt, the slight bulge on her hip letting Sebastian and the others know she was armed. Another man walked in after her, tall and in his early thirties with prominent ears and the look of someone close to a breakdown. “Who are you all of you?” Holmes opened his mouth to say something, but Watson elbows him sharply.

“The people that can blow all your asses to Kingdom Come and not give a damn about it,” Alicia says from her spot behind Watson. She pops her head over his shoulder so they could see her. “What the fuck are you doing here, Knight?” The nervous man gives a shrug of his shoulders, pulling at the collar of his top.

“You know,” he answers,” sight-seeing and all that. Figured you could use some help if you got here first.”

“More like Donovan thought she could sneak inside and claim the whole city for herself again,” Holmes sneers. Seb raises his brows slightly, looking between Donovan and Holmes with some interest. “I should know, she did the same thing back in Amarna when I showed up to work a case.”

“Like you could’ve caught the murderer anyway, freak,” Donovan shoots back.

“Last I checked, no one has been murdered, so there’s really no reason for you to stay. Although, that _could_ be arranged, I’m sure.” Donovan makes a face, looking ready to pounce when the curly-haired man cuts in.

“She’s just here as protection,” he says quickly, sensing a fight. “We got a tip from someone that this place was filled with treasure and now was a good time to cash in, so we came. I’m sure we could all work together without anyone getting shot.” The man sends Watson and Seb meaningful glances, but neither of the men lower their guns.

“Butt out, Tom, this is our dig sight.”

“Yeah,” Watson asserted,” we got here first. Try and take it from us and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” Things were tense as Donovan brought her own gun out, aiming it at Holmes with a steady hand.

**2010—LONDON, ENGLAND**

*******

“Wait,” Thalia interrupts, holding up a hand to get Sebastian’s attention. “Who’s those new guys supposed to be?”

“You never met them, Honeybear,” Sebastian answers patiently. Her little nose scrunches up and she looked about ready to let loose a barrage of questions. “If you let me continue, you’ll find out more about them.” She’s heard edited versions of the story before, mostly about how Seb, Jim, and Alicia actually defeated the mummy, but his was a slightly longer version. He left out all the sexy bits, of course, he wasn’t ready for her to learn about that until she was at least seventy.

“But they’re stupid.”

“You got that right,” Jim agrees, fingers of one hand gently rubbing circles on the tabletop. “Dumbest people I’ve ever met and that’s saying something.” Seb couldn’t exactly argue, so he gave a curt nod and took a sip of his hot chocolate. They really shouldn’t be drinking this stuff so late at night, but it always managed to get Thalia’s shoulders to relax and kept her toasty warm in the freezing house.

“What happened next, Papa?”

“Well,” Sebastian resumes with a faint smile,” we had ourselves a Mexican-standoff.”

**2007—HAMUNAPTRA, EGYPT**

*******

“Put down the gun, Donovan,” Jim commands in his fake drawl. He sounded almost bored with how things were going, more like his younger brother than Seb had ever heard before. “I’m sure you don’t want to be embarrassed in front of your clients.” Jim was half-behind Seb, but there was little doubt in his mind that the smaller man could cause a lot of damage to the three trespassers. He was tiny, but the fucker could move incredibly fast when he wanted to.

“Actually,” Holmes says after a minute,” let them have the chamber.” Those pale eyes flick from Jim to Alicia and the three of them seem to communicate something without ever speaking. Moriarty gains a small smile, barely there and vicious, one of his warm hands resting on top of the barrel of Sebastian’s pistol. With only the slightest bit of pressure from Jim, Seb holsters his gun and watches as John does the same.

“Ally, lead the way out of this place.” Alicia dips her head in a nod, shouldering her way past the trio standing in the doorway. Seb wasn’t pleased at all with how things had panned out, to put it lightly. They were the ones who had nearly been sprayed with fucking acid, so why should Donovan’s group get to keep the chest?

_Oh._

_I’m a fucking idiot_.

The seven of them come to a stop just out of hearing range of the chamber, Seb tossing Holmes a knowing smile. “And now,” Bari announces,” we just wait for those assholes to get cursed.”

“Bari,” Munir scolds, hitting the back of his son’s head,” we don’t use that language and you know it. Your mother wouldn’t stand for it if she were here.” Bari frowns, rubbing his head and smartly keeping his mouth shut. He was obviously used to the treatment, but had slipped up in his overexuberance.

“What do you suppose was in that chest?”

“Something interesting,” Jim answers with that vicious grin still curling his lips,” and we’re going to steal it back when they’re all sound asleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From what I’ve found online, “Yalla, imshi” roughly translates into “come on, let’s go” but if anyone out there knows differently, let me know!


	9. Digging Through Ceilings

“Anybody got an idea of where we’re going,” Holmes asks, long fingers wrapped around the handle of a torch. He was stuck in the middle of the line as they headed deeper into the city’s underground tunnels, looking about as pleased as Sebastian felt. No one answered him as they kept moving, the only sounds being the scratching of shoes against stone and the occasional mumble from Alicia as she attempts to navigate.

“Here,” she says after a while, pointing towards an open doorway. “I see hieroglyphics on the walls.” Jim is the first inside, going immediately to the far wall to read the words left behind. They looked almost golden while bathed in the yellow beams of light, glimmering through three centuries worth of dust.

“She’s right,” Jim says, stepping back and pointing up at the ceiling. “You can start digging there and we should come up right between Anubis’ legs. Those bastards up above won’t know we’re there until it’s too late.”

“Why do we want to do that,” Watson asks, taking a pick axe all the same. “I mean, we already saw what was hidden in there.”

“We found a chest, yes, but there may have been something else.” John sends the dark-haired man a skeptical look and Jim grins in return, giving an overexaggerated shrug. “Alright, alright, there’s no digging involved. I just don’t want to deal with the sunlight yet.” The tunnels weren’t exactly air conditioned, but the heat wasn’t stifling so far beneath the sand.

“Y’all ever notice how nobody digs through ceilings anymore,” Alicia remarks, pacing around the room with her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “Who knows what could be waiting up there?”

“I’ll hide some shit in my ceiling for you, Ally,” Seb says, tossing aside the shovel he’d been carrying. “You can dig it out after I’ve kicked the bucket.”

“Promises, promises.” He winks when she turns to smile at him, leaning against one of the walls. He didn’t trust the stone not to crumble beneath his weight, but his knee was throbbing and needed some relief. Watson was doing much the same thing, rubbing absently at one leg while Homes looked on with faint intrigue. _Leave it to him to be interested in old war wounds_. “Alright, give me something sharp to poke the ceiling with.” She comes over, holding out a hand demandingly.

“What,” Jim laughs. “Are you serious?”

“I can’t just sit around.”

“I’ve seen you do just that for nearly a week straight one time.”

“I was in a damn cast and my pregnant sister was sitting on me most of the time.” She turns to look at Seb again, quirking up her brows. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Ah, you know you wanted a cute niece to bounce on your knee,” he says, nudging her ankle lightly with his foot.

“You have a daughter,” Watson asks in genuine surprise. Seb digs his phone out of his pocket, quickly finding a picture from Thalia’s first birthday that he was proudest of; Jim bending down next to her highchair, pink icing covering the tip of Jim’s nose and a mess of it in Thalia’s blonde hair. “She’s beautiful.”

“She gets it from her mother.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Seb gives a soft smile as he looks at the picture a moment longer, wondering what his baby was doing right then. Maybe she was playing outside with Kelsey or maybe they were curled up in bed with Thalia sound asleep and Kelsey reading a book on hearing aid maintenance.

“Yes, my niece is the cutest baby in the world,” Alicia says, tapping her foot impatiently,” we all know that. Can someone give me a sharp tool now? I’d like to dig in the ceiling.” John hands her a pick axe and watches as she moves to stand on one of the broken ends of a pillar, steady on her feet.

“So what’s the difference between this and grave robbery?”

“I’m not sure, I just know this way’s legal.” She spaces her feet apart in order to keep her balance, holding the shaft of the axe with both hands as she readied herself to make the first strike against the hard stone of the ceiling. That’s about when Seb realized she was serious about this and the possibility of her collapsing the entire fucking ceiling became exponentially higher.

“Hold it!” Watson seemed to have realized the same thing, crossing the room and grabbing Ally around the waist to drag her off the pillar. “ _I’ll_ do it.”

“I’m fully capable, Doc.”

“I’m sure you are, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t really trust you not to hit the wrong place and kill us all. Moran, you wanna help me out with this?” Seb gives the other man a shrug, pushing away from the wall and striding over to him. He picks up a sledge-hammer that Alicia started to reach for, gently nudging her out of his way so he could get up on his own partial pillar.

“Oh, come on!”

“If I let you do something this stupid and then you get hurt, your sister will mutilate me,” he says. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to live and see my daughter graduate high school.” Alicia pouts, but she stops trying to grab tools and settles for watching the two men do the work. For a long while after that, the only sounds were of Watson and Seb chipping away at the stone, some of it coming down in a fine shower or large chunks that buried themselves in the sand.

“So, when do you plan on stealing the chest back,” Holmes asks, breaking the silence.

“Probably around one or so in the morning,” Jim answers, careful not to let any of the cobwebs get on his suit. Even after spending a few days in the middle of the desert, the black of his suit remained pristine and free of any sand. If Seb was the superstitious type, he’d say Jim used dark magic just to keep himself clean.

“Yeah,” Alicia adds,” we want those damn Brits to be sound asleep before we steal their shit.” Silence fell again as everyone in the room turned their gazes to the blonde, eyebrows cocked up and offense growing in their expressions. “No offense.”

“Keep that talk up and I’ll show you how that sah-netjer was used.”

“Good luck making me hold still long enough for you to scramble my brains.”

“Scramble your brains,” Watson asks, adjusting his grip on the axe. “What does that have to do with making mummies?”

“Sometimes they’d shove a hooked tool up your nose and scramble it around until your brain was mushy enough to be poured out.”

“Not always, though,” Jim says. “Sometimes they’d leave the brain alone entirely. Anyways, the brain came after your internal organs were removed.” Alicia and Jim seemed to have hit their stride, mummification a common interest that had Seb wondering if he should trust Thalia with either of them when she’s old enough to remember information like this. “The heart would be left behind because ancient Egyptians believed it to be where the soul resided.”

“Plus, Osiris would weigh your heart against a feather to see if you were guiltless enough to pass on into the afterlife.” Watson opened his mouth, but Alicia continues to talk. “The feather was a representation of Ma’at, who was the goddess of truth.” Watson’s mouth closes as his unasked question is answered.

“If the heart is too heavy, then a demon would devour it and you would never get to the afterlife,” Holmes says from his spot against a wall, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“And then—”

“Alright,” Seb interrupts,” we get it, mummification is a complex ritual to these guys. And, just for the record, Watson, don’t put me down for mummification if I don’t make it out of here.”

“Likewise,” Watson agrees, looking a little green. “I think I’ll sit down for a little while.” He lets the axe drop to the ground behind him before jumping down, moving to sit near one of the walls next to Holmes. Seb gets down as well, pacing around the room with the hope that the ache in his knee would lessen with some exercise.

“You all are boring,” Jim complains, though he doesn’t look away from a batch of hieroglyphics he and Bari were examining. The pair of diggers had remained quiet all this time, looking around in apprehension as though they expected something awful to happen at any moment. Sebastian supposed he’d feel the same way were he actually religious. “Mummification is one of the most interesting parts of history.”

“Or you three are just demented.”

“Yes, there’s always that option.” Alicia shares a smile with him, fiddling with a small chunk of limestone. It was about the same size as a softball, fitting snugly in one of her hands as she rolls it around in her palms. “Looks like this might have been a prayer room of sorts. I can’t figure this glyph out, but the general idea has something to do with Anubis.” Sebastian turns to start back towards the other side of the room as Alicia throws the stone, a resounding _crack_ echoing in the chamber as part of the ceiling gives way in a shower of dust.

It’s pure instinct that has Sebastian moving instead of freezing up, tackling the woman to the ground and out of harm’s way as sand sprays over them. For a moment, Sebastian wasn’t in a chamber or even Hamunaptra, he was back in a battle zone and attempting to shield a young Lieutenant from getting shot. Adrenaline pumped through him in waves, making his limbs shake and heart pump faster as he covers the boy with his own body until the ringing in his ears faded away.

He came back to himself when he felt hands grasping the back of his tee, registering the fact that they were too small for the Lieutenant he had saved. Sitting up, Sebastian looks down at Alicia with wide eyes, trying to find any damage other than a thin cut along one of her cheeks.

“Are you okay,” he asks breathlessly. Alicia just nods, unable to do much else as the pair got to their feet. “What the hell happened?” He looks over his shoulder, spotting Jim and Bari as they pulled themselves back to their feet, then to his right where the other three members of their group were slowly sitting up.

“What the hell was that,” Watson asks, coughing as he breathed in some of the dust still fluttering through the air.

“I think we found a sarcophagus,” Alicia answers as best she can. She walks over to the middle of the room where, until a few seconds ago, the pillars had been resting. Now, in their place, a giant stone rectangle was set there, covered in limestone crumbs and old, dried mud. “And buried at the feet of Anubis no less.”

“Someone important then,” Holmes says, limping over with Watson in toe.

“Or naughty,” Jim interjects. When Seb looks his way, the shorter man gives an almost feral grin. “I’m personally hoping for the latter. The naughty ones are always more entertaining. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Holmes?”

“They’re fun to read about at the very least.”

“Let’s see if our new friend has a name.” Holmes, Jim, and Alicia all bend over the sarcophagus, brushing the excess sand and rubble off the top in order to read the hieroglyphics that had been carved into the top panel of it. They’re quiet for a moment, giving Seb time to look himself over and take a mental tally of any new injuries. In the end, he only has to add a sore back to his list and that had been from Alicia’s nails digging in a little too hard. “‘He That Shall Not Be Named’,” Jim reads aloud, lips pursed.

“Did Lord Voldemort just fall through the ceiling,” Bari asks with a laugh. No one else responds to the teenager, watching as Holmes leans forward and blows a puff of air over a small section, clearing out an indention in the stone. Seb moves closer, leaning over Jim’s shoulder so that he could see what had caught their interest. It turns out to be a star-shaped thing, a scarab beetle carved in the middle, all of it made of some kind of metal.

“That looks like a lock.”

“And I think I have the key to it,” Alicia says, moving to dig through the small bag she’d brought with her down into the tunnels. After a moment, she pulls out a circle of metal, feeling around the sides until the top springs open to reveal a pattern exactly like the one on the coffin.

“Hey,” Holmes frowns,” that’s mine.”

“You didn’t even know it was missing, so shut up.” Ally fits the key into the lock, giving everyone a victorious look for having figured it out. “Now, for the real question, do we open it?”

“They put the guy in there for a reason,” Munir says, edging towards the door with a hand fisted in the back of his son’s shirt. “Perhaps we should leave it as such.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”


	10. A Medjai Raid

Seb was sound asleep in his cot when he felt Jim shifting next to him, mumbling something in Gaelic. Now, he wasn’t fluent in the language, but Seb was half-convinced that it was something along the lines of _catch that chicken_ and, honestly, that’s not the weirdest thing Jim had ever whispered in his sleep before. “Shut up,” he mumbles in return, flinging an arm around Jim’s waist. Jim wiggles, but he doesn’t make any more noises. Content that the rest of the night would be quiet, Seb allows his eyes to flutter closed again.

After Munir had dragged Alicia back to the surface by her ear, he’d been forced to listen to the trespassers bragging about the canopic jars they’d found inside the cursed chest. It took all of Seb’s restraint not to tell them that opening the chest would probably end with them being midnight snacks for a servant of darkness, but he figured he’d just let them figure that one out on their own. Five hours later, he just wanted to get a good night’s sleep before he had to call his wife the next morning and let her know that Alicia was still alive. He wasn’t really looking forward to that phone call, but at least he’d be able to talk to his baby and hear her giggling, _and_ he would have the chance to ask Kelsey why she felt the need to tell Jim about their daughter’s health and not Seb.

Feeling his frustration rising with that thought, he gets up and tugs on some shoes before walking outside into the chilled desert air. London got pretty nippy at night, but it didn’t hold a candle to Hamunaptra. On top of all the weird howling winds that sprung up from time to time, there was the breeze that seemed almost able to rip through your body.

Seb meanders over to the fire where Ally and Henry are snuggled together and looking at something on her phone. Seeing the pair together didn’t really surprise Seb much, Alicia had contacts all around the globe and she usually crossed paths with at least one of them whenever she came back to Egypt.

“What are you two lovebirds lookin’ at,” Seb asks, sitting on Alicia’s left. He would never admit it to anyone, but he loved to snuggle on cold nights and his sister-in-law didn’t mind sharing the abnormally huge blanket she and Henry had wrapped around their shoulders.

“Cat videos,” Henry answers, lips turned up in a smile. He didn’t seem the type to smile often, probably suffering from depression, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. “This one here just chased a large dog out of its yard.”

“Sounds lovely.” He settles comfortably against Alicia, allowing his eyes to drift closed again as the warmth of the fire sinks into his aching bones. “Got anything worth drinking over there?” Without looking up from the phone, Alicia grabs a bottle out of the sand and holds in in Seb’s face until he takes it. One other thing he’d never admit in a million years, his eyesight was becoming shit without a scope to peer through. He holds the bottle away from his face so he can read the label, making an impressed sound a moment later. “Twelve year old Glenlivet?”

“I stole it from Donovan.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense.” He takes a long swig from it, letting out a satisfied hiss as it burned its way down his throat. “She may be the world’s biggest bitch, but she has good taste.”

“My thoughts exactly, Seb.”

“Don’t be stingy,” Henry says, holding out a hand,” you’ve got to share it.” Henry takes a small sip of it, obviously the type that would savor his expensive booze even though no one who cared was around to see him do it. Going off the nice equipment he’d brought along, Henry Knight probably grew up well off and had the mannerisms to prove that, though he often fought against them around his friends.

“Watch this, a cat’s gonna go slap a lion.” She had just pulled the video up on her phone when one of the horses made a sound. Seb turns, tuning out the sound of Henry’s snorted laughter. The other horses join in, whinnying and bucking against their ropes.

“Ally, you still got your pistol,” Seb asks, continuing when Ally confirms it. “I’ll be right back.” He runs off for the tent he shared with Jim, the Irishman waking up when he hears Seb digging frantically through one of their bags until he found the pair of pistols he was looking for. They were only simple revolvers, but he had twelve rounds between the both of them and something was about to happen. “Get over to Alicia and Henry, no questions asked.”

“Tiger, what’s—”

“ _Now_ , James!” Jim bolted up out of bed at the use of his given name, following at Seb’s heels all the way out of the tent as they ran over to the fire. Henry was brandishing the bottle of whisky like a club while Alicia was holding her little Walther that she loved so much. “Take care of him and stay here.”

“Wait up,” Jim and Ally yelled in unison, but Seb wasn’t slowing down as the sound of rapid hoofbeats filled the air.

“Ally,” he could hear Henry shouting,” Jim! Didn’t the man just say to stay here?! Don’t leave me by the fire by myself!” Black-clad riders seemed to suddenly appear out of the night, storming through the camps on black horses with scimitars flashing in the firelight. Seb doesn’t hesitate to bring his pistols up and start firing, his vision zeroing in on the targets around him and everything that wasn’t important falling into the background.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was killing these riders before they could kill him or Jim. Adrenaline hampered him as it kicked in, but he fell back into the dance only known to soldiers as he made his way through the riders, teeth grinding together with each _bang_ echoing through the night.

At one point, he jumped up on one to the crumbling walls and then tackled a rider of a horse, ignoring the burning sensation in his back when the pair hit the sand hard. Seb pins the man to the ground with one knee in his chest, blowing the sword out of his hands with a single squeeze of the trigger. He could see the pain blooming in the man’s eyes, a trickle of blood trailing down his hand where the bullet had nicked him.

He was about to squeeze the trigger again when he heard a horse coming up behind him, quickly rolling away from it seconds before a blade came down. Instead of taking his head as the rider had intended, only a few hairs are shorn and drift to the ground like feathers on the breeze. Seb shoots the rider and turns to do the same to the man he’d tackled, but finds only a bit of blood in the sand to mark where the rider had been.

Seb begins to move again, firing his last shot into the chest of a rider before flipping the pistols around to act as clubs. He turns as he runs, spotting Watson a few feet away and trying to fight one of the riders, gun clicking whenever he squeezed the trigger. Seb pauses just long enough to throw one of his pistols, nailing the rider in the back of the head hard enough to make him lurch forward in his saddle. With the distraction, Watson rolls forward toward one of the fires, pulling a stick of dynamite out of his pocket and lighting the fuse, holding it up towards the rider with a determined set to his jaw.

Seb joins him, still clutching one pistol tightly in his hand as he meets the rider’s eyes. _It’s the same one from earlier_ , he notes, recognizing the way the man held himself in the saddle. _That’s the one I tackled_. The rider looked frustrated now as he stared at the sparking fuse and then at the man who held it. This far into battle mode, Watson wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself if it meant saving the others.

“Enough,” the rider shouts, harsh voice calling the other riders to attention. The noise comes back to Seb all at once, slowly dying down back to normal as the riders stopped their attack. “We will shed no more blood, but you must leave. Leave this place or die. We will give you one day.” After one more command shouted in Arabic, the riders left the camp at a fast gallop, some of them riding double.

Watson plucks the fuse out and tosses it away, the sparks going out as he grinds it under his shoe. Now that he wasn’t hyper focused, Seb could see the wounded and dead scattered through the camps, some of the tents little more than ash while others were cut to ribbons. His eyes catch of a flash of blue silk, spotting Jim as the other man sits up and rubs at the back of his head. He looked no worse for wear, the rifle lying beside him and the low wall in front of him giving Seb an idea of what had happened.

“Looks like my dynamite came in handy after all,” Watson breathes out, looking pale as he rubbed at his leg.

“That settles it,” Donovan says, breathless and still clutching at a pistol that was no longer loaded. “If they’re willing to attack like that, then there _has_ to be a fortune buried under our feet.”

“The only thing these people value is water.” Watson looked disgustedly over his shoulder at the woman. “They’re probably the guardians of this place and are scared that we’d wake up some kind of beast or another.” He lets out a soft sigh, running shaking fingers through his hair, oblivious to his split lip. “Now, where’s that idiot gotten himself to?” Seb walks over to his own idiot savant, helping Jim back to his feet and cupping his cheeks.

“You alright,” he asks, checking Jim over for anything major. His nightclothes were torn in places and a dark bruise was beginning to form along his left cheek, but there was nothing other than that. “Jim?” He shakes the dark-haired man sharply, Jim’s eyes focusing on his face.

“You’ve got red on you,” he mumbles, using his dirty sleeve to wipe some blood off Seb’s cheek. Seb leans into his touch, not minding how filthy either of them were as the exhaustion started to set in. “God, you look awful, ‘Bastian.”

“You don’t look so hot yourself, Boss. Come on, let’s go check on the others and get some rest.” It wasn’t hard to find Alicia, she and Henry were standing at the base of a statue, the neck of the liquor bottle clutched in Henry’s hand while Ally was holding the shattered remains of the base. They looked more horrified at the loss of whisky than they did about the dead man sprawled on the ground in front of them, some of the dark green glass embedded in his skull. “Now, that’s just a waste.”

“You’ll have to steal the other bottle from Donovan’s bag.” It’s not until he’s in the tent and halfway through the motion of pulling off his shirt that he realized his side was beginning to ache something fierce. “You’re bruised. Is it the ribs?”

“Nah, it’s superficial.” Wincing, he completes the motion and kicks his pajama pants and shoes off before just sliding into a pair of old sweats. “Think you can hand me that shirt?” Jim nods mutely, grabbing the long-sleeved top and helping Seb put it on without stretching too much. He would take some Ibuprofen later if it didn’t ease up, but he’d put it off as long as possible to avoid swallowing pills.

Jim, still in his contemplative state—because, really, it wasn’t shock that made him so quiet after a vicious fight—pulls on an identical set of blue silk pajamas. The old ones were thrown into a corner and a pair of simple slippers were slid over pale feet, everything back to perfection aside from the dark locks that stood up all over Jim’s head.

“What are you thinkin’ about over there?”

“That those men had no reason to attack us beyond old superstition.” He looks up at Seb, chewing on his lip and a small crease appearing between fine brows. “Perhaps Donovan wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that something’s under the sand that they don’t want us disturbing.”

“Yes, Jim, there’s a monster lurking beneath our feet. In related news, the boogeyman is hiding under our bed and Santa Claus is busily working on making me pistols that are identical to the ones Jesse James used.” The sarcasm was practically dripping from the words, but Jim only makes a noise of vague interest. Seb just shakes his head, pulling his boots back on and ignoring the ache beginning to spread through his side and over his hip.

He could still hear talking outside, an excited chatter that marked Holmes spouting out some facts about God only knows what. Just a few days ago he’d heard the taller man speaking about the origins of rock and the chemical components of Coca-Cola. Honestly, he was starting to think Holmes’ intellect was on par with Jim’s. As though to drown the Englishman out, music begins playing over the speakers from the research tent and Seb can’t help his smile when he recognizes the tune as one he’d grown up with.

“ _There’s a port on a western bay and it serves a hundred ships a day,_ ” Seb sings along, tapping his foot along with the beat. _“Lonely sailors pass the time away and talk about their homes._ ” He sways a little, watching as Jim scribbles something down on a sheet of paper, the handwriting nearly illegible and coded so that only Jim could understand it anyway. He’d tried to teach Seb one day, but eventually grew bored and decided that throwing monopoly pieces at Seb’s head was far more entertaining.

“Sebastian, if you feel like you just have to dance, then do it outside. ‘M busy.” Seb tugs on the back of Jim’s night shirt, it was just enough to have the silk grazing the arched back and send shivers all the way to Jim’s toes. “That’s not _funny_.” The simple truth was that, yes, it was very funny. The most dangerous man in all of London—probably in all the world— _was ticklish_.

“ _And there’s a girl in this harbor town and she works layin’ whisky down. They say, Brandy, fetch another round, and she serves them whisky and wine_.” Realizing he’d get no work done, Jim throws his pen down on the collapsible desk and storms out of the tent, dragging Seb along by his wrist.

 _The sailors say ‘Brandy, you’re a fine girl’_ , the music continues. By the fire that had been relit, Alicia and Henry were swaying along to the beat, a little too close together for them just to be colleagues. _‘What a good wife you would be. Yeah, your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea’._

“Teach me how to fight.”

“What,” Seb asks, biting back a laugh that was bubbling up in his belly. “I thought you’d wanna dance.”

“No, I want you to teach me the basics of fighting.” Jim gets into the proper fighting stance, though his muscles were tense and knees locked. “Show me how to knock someone like you into the dirt in case those Medjai come back for round two.” And the pieces fell into place, Seb giving an indulgent smile as he moves to straighten out Jim’s stance into something a little more natural. That’s how the rest of the night seemed to pass, Seb teaching Jim some of the basics of throwing punches while a few of the others danced, drank, or sang along to the song; sometimes a combination of the three, though it was soon made clear that a drunk Sherlock Holmes was something that belonged on YouTube and not so close to an open flame.

_He came on a summer's day, bringin' gifts from far away, but he made it clear he couldn't stay. No harbor was his home..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post on Tuesday like I usually do, my aunt had emergency surgery and I had to babysit my cousins.


	11. Dreams About Dead Guys

Turns out getting drunk when you have to open a sarcophagus the next morning isn’t the brightest decision a man could make. Unfortunately for Seb, that’s exactly what was on the agenda for the very hungover group currently making their way through the halls of Hamunaptra. “I say we hide the booze tonight,” Watson mumbles, rubbing his temple with his free hand while the other held the flashlight up higher.

“Or use it as fuel if we want a bonfire,” Sebastian adds, nodding a little. “Hell, we could pour it on Anderson and see how long it takes him to realize we’re about to set him on fire.”

“Yeah, but there’s that little problem of murder being illegal.” Seb makes a sound, but doesn’t actually say anything considering he killed as frequently as normal people changed clothes.

“This way, guys,” Bari calls from the front, cheeks a dark red against the brown of his skin. He was a handsome lad, sweet, wouldn’t last a month in London. The way he was sticking close to Alicia told Seb that they were more like siblings than Kelsey and Alicia were, which was a little sad considering the latter pair actually _were_ siblings. Divorce would do that, though, especially when the kids each picked a different parent to live with. “Do we really get to open the sarcophagus, Miss Mather?”

“The only reason we wouldn’t is if someone stole it right out from under our noses,” the blonde assures him. Even from the back, Seb could see the way her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out to the boy yet forced herself not to. It would be considered indecent, bolder than if she ran topless through the streets of Cairo. He wouldn’t put the latter act past her, she’d do anything once if she was drunk enough.

After what felt like hours to Seb’s sleep-deprived mind, they finally enter the chamber where they’d left the massive sarcophagus the day before. The dust had settled in the time they’d been aboveground, the dark stone covered in a faint white powder of sandstone. Ally gestures towards it and the men get to work trying to heft it up, the diggers refusing to enter the halls after the raid last night. With grunts of effort and some cursing on Watson’s part, they finally manage to get it upright and leaning against one of the walls, letting go only when they were sure it wouldn’t just topple over again.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment since I was a little girl.”

“You dream about dead guys,” Watson asks, sending her a look of concern. She doesn’t pay him any mind, gray eyes taking in everything the front of the sarcophagus had to offer. Whoever carved the damn thing did a pretty good job, the façade of it made to look like a man with arms crossed over his chest, a few lines of hieroglyphics along the stomach that looked as though someone had tried to remove them at some point.

“They chiseled off the sacred spells. Why would they do that, I wonder?”

“I was right,” Jim says with a smug half-smile. “This one was naughty enough to be condemned in both lifetimes.”

“Bully for you. Let’s get this thing open and see what Santa brought me.” Holmes digs the key out of his pocket, the seven blades of it popping outward and fitting easily into the lock. He gives three good turns until a faint _click_ echoes through the chamber, Holmes and Seb pulling as hard as they could on the lid. It seemed to be sealed somehow, not wanting to give even as Seb dug his fingers into the slowly widening crease. The lid pops open with no warning, toppling to the ground and setting everyone to screaming when its mummified host leans forward. “I _hate it_ when these things do that!”

“Is he supposed to look like that,” Seb asks, staring in disgust at the mummy. It was dark brown, covered in some kind of goo that he didn’t really want to consider for too long; little more than a skeleton with some ligament and wrappings to hold it all together, but something didn’t seem right with it. It was still…. _Fresh_.

“No, that’s not possible. It’s still… Still—”

“Juicy,” Holmes and Watson supply in unison.

“Jim, how old would you say he is?”

“Just by looking at him,” Jim muses,” I’d say less than twelve years. However, since we know that’s not actually possible, it’d be closer to three or four thousand years. Either the ancient Egyptians had embalmers of the highest caliber or our friend here is an anomaly that could be worth quite a bit to the right people.” With a grimace, Seb tries to find a distraction that doesn’t smell like rancid meat.

“Take a look at these,” Munir says, kneeling beside the toppled lid. The front of it was buried in the sand, but the inside was made the same smooth stone as the rest. Seb and the others gather around the lid, taking in the lines of deep marks running down the length of it and the rough hieroglyphics etched into it.  “What do you suppose these are?” Bari reaches out a hand, thick fingers lining up with the lines perfectly. 

“Fingernails,” the boy says in a hushed tone. “He was alive when they did this, _Abbi_.” The boy’s blue eyes focused on his father, wide and fearful as though he’d just discovered something entirely too awful. He reaches out again, fingers hovering over the ancient words as he read them aloud. “ _Death is only the beginning_.”

“What the hell are we getting ourselves into,” Seb mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Together, the group looks back to the mummy with some apprehension, dread beginning to coil in Seb’s belly like a snake fixing to strike. This wasn’t a good place to be in before they found the dead guy, but now it felt like the air in the room was disappearing faster than Seb could suck it in.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” Munir shared the sentiment, scrambling to his feet and ushering Bari towards the door.

“Come,” the older man says. “We should not be here. This man is cursed like all the tales say.” He was gone a moment later, only the scuffing of shoes against sand letting on to his presence in the hallways. The others look to Jim and Alicia, Seb taking in the tic in his boss’ jaw.

“This is him, isn’t it,” Seb asks, though it came out more as a statement. “He’s the guy that attempted to wake up his dead girlfriend.”

“I think so,” Alicia confirms, looking uneasy for the first time since arriving. “Maybe we should follow Munir’s example and head back up. We can always come back later for a closer look. You know, when the room airs out a little more.” Jim hums a response, standing up and brushing some sand off his pants. “Jim?”

“I suppose so,” he mumbles. “You and I can come back down here this evening to check some things over. No clumsy oafs to break anything we find.” He sends a pointed look in Seb’s direction, the sniper raising his hands in a _don’t shoot_ gesture. In his defense, it was one time and that skeleton had come out of nowhere. _If he didn’t want it stomped to pieces, then he shouldn’t have stored remains in my fucking closet_.

“Walking around a supposedly haunted tomb at night in the middle of nowhere? Sounds like a recipe for murder, but alright.” Seb and Watson share a look, shaking their heads. _I’m surrounded by adrenaline-addicted idiots_. That’s all there was to it, he had to be the only sane one here and that wasn’t saying much in the long run.

The rest of the morning and afternoon passed smoothly, most of the group in good moods after their discoveries. In fact, the only two people that seemed remotely unhappy were Anderson and Donovan, secluded away in the latter’s tent. They ignored the music and chattering outside, though how that was possible Seb had no clue. The songs varied depending on whose turn it was, sometimes rock if Jim was in charge or country for Tom; Bari preferred alternative, something that earned him a fond grin from Alicia. Sometimes you couldn’t even hear the music over the sound of loud arguing between Holmes and Jim, everything from whether or not dinosaurs had feathers to the failure that was Tremors (that particular argument had Alicia involved and she’d threatened to shave both men bald if they didn’t admit it was amazing).

All in all, it wasn’t bad apart from the continuous heat beating down on them. Even the diggers, spooked as they were, joined in when they could, their English better than most people’s that Seb has met. One had a great-something or other that had helped out with Lord Carnarvon and Carter’s quest to find Tut’s tomb. Of course, the poor guy had died soon after, but the digger was proud all the same.

It wasn’t until late that evening after most of them had retired to their tents that Ally and Jim ventured back into the ruins. Seb stayed behind, tending to the fire and having a quiet talk with Watson. They were just beginning to discuss the curse laid over Hamunaptra two hours later when Ally and Jim came back out. The blonde was outright grinning when she passed by Henry, Jim sharing the same smugness as they found seats around the fire.

“Check it out,” Alicia says, thrusting out her hand.

“Stone carvings,” Seb asks, brows raised. They were fairly large he supposed, a pile of them fitting snuggly in the palm of her hand.

“Nope, petrified scarab beetles.”

“For God’s sake,” Holmes mutters, rolling his eyes. “The smallest things are capable of amusing you, aren’t they?” She winks, tossing him one of the ancient bugs. Holmes catches it easily, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger to study it despite the sneer curling his lip. “Where’d you find these things.”

“With our new friend. They eat any sort of meat they can find, including unfortunate people that have been buried alive.”

“Ouch,” Seb mumbles, wincing in sympathy. “Poor guy just got all the works, didn’t he? Not only did he get mummified and buried alive for trying to bring his dead girlfriend back to life, but they threw a bunch of evil bugs into the mix?” He looks to Jim, careful not to touch one of the beetles. “Remind me not to piss any Egyptian pharaohs off.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Jim smiles. “Our friend certainly wasn’t a popular fellow when they planted him.”

“Well, he was having an affair with Seti’s girlfriend.”

“You’re talking about the Hom-Dai,” Holmes says, tossing the beetle to Watson. “I’ve read about it, it’s supposed to be awful.”

“The worst of all ancient curses,” Ally confirms with a nod. “They saved it for the worst of the worst and this guy fit the bill apparently. I’ve done a lot of research, but this is the only case I’ve heard of the ritual actually being performed. The Egyptians were terrified of it, even Munir says it’s not something to speak about around children.”

“And here we are digging around to see what we can find out about him. It’s a good thing we’re not superstitious.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tom says, he and Henry coming to sit near the fire. “I’m plenty superstitious for all of us.”

“Then I suggest you find a different line of work,” Jim advises, baring his teeth in an almost feral grin. “For here there be monsters.”

* * *

It had to be close to one in the morning when Seb woke to the sounds of light footsteps, recognizing them as Ally’s. He waited a moment, hearing the sound of clicking metal and the shuffling of clothes before the footsteps resumed. “That’s called _stealing_ , you know,” he comments, eyes flicking open. He’d fallen asleep by the fire, a rifle across his lap and still gripped loosely in his hands.

“I prefer to think of it as commandeering,” she returns, her and Jim kneeling in front of small table that’d been propped up a few hours ago for drinks. Realizing his curiosity wouldn’t let him go back to sleep, he sits up and scoots over to sit between the pair. Jim was working on opening the key, the blades of it popping out with only a faint sound of well-oiled metal. There was a book set on the table, made up of some sort of dark metal with the same marking opposite the hinges that the sarcophagus had.

“I thought the book you guys wanted was made of gold.”

“That’s the _Book of Amun-Ra_. This one is what our friends got out of the chest with their canopic jars. I think it’s called the _Book of the Dead_.”

“How about we don’t read from the book that could potentially kill everyone?”

“Where’s the fun in that,” she and Jim ask in unison.

“Besides,” Jim says, with a shrug of his shoulders,” it’s only a book. Last I checked, no harm ever came from reading a book.” He slides the key in place and turns it, a metallic _click_ echoing just as it had in the chamber earlier that afternoon. The wind whistles harshly as the book is opened, the fire flickering and throwing shadows every which way.

“That happens a lot around here,” Seb says, giving the book a suspicious look. His heart was beating a fast rhythm in his chest, almost drowning out the crackling of the flames Something bad was going to happen and it was going to be because these two morons thought it’d be fun to mess with an ancient book. That tears it, he was packing his daughter up and going on a two-month holiday if he survived this trip. “You stole the damn thing, least you could do is read it out loud.”

“ _Amun Ra. Amun Dei_. It’s speaks of the night and of the day.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much, thank you.” Jim ignores the jibe and continues to read, the ancient language rolling easily off his tongue. It was beautiful when Jim spoke it, the Irish brogue practically non-existent as he took on another accent, like a snake shedding its skin. Seb could feel the tension building, almost a palpable thing as his grip tightens further around the barrel and stock of the rifle.

“ _Nooo!_ ” The sudden shout made all of them jump in surprise, looking around for any sign of those black-clad riders coming back to slaughter them all. Instead, they find Henry struggling to get up, feet tangled up in his blanket. “You must not read from the book!” He finally finds his footing, getting a good few feet when his words are cut off by a high-pitched whine.

“What on earth?” Seb stands up, squinting towards the horizon where a dark mass seemed to be growing. “What the hell is that?”

“Locusts,” Alicia mumbles, then screams it for the others to hear. “Locusts! Bari, Munir!” The blonde seems to spring into action, sprinting over to the sleeping diggers and shaking them awake as she yelled at them in Arabic. Seb hauls Jim to his feet and then up onto his shoulder, beginning a dead sprint towards the entrance they’d dug out the day before. Alicia falls in step with him, easily keeping up despite being a good foot and a half shorter than him as they ran through the darkened halls.

Seb doesn’t stop running until the whine of the bugs is gone entirely, finally allowing himself to set Jim back on his feet and lean against a wall to catch his breath. The halls had been dark before when they only had a minimal amount of sunlight streaming in, but now they were pitch black and Seb was beginning to realize how lucky it was that none of them had slammed into a wall and killed themselves.

“Where- Where are we,” he gasps, hands on his knees.

“I’m not sure,” Jim replies, bringing a Zippo out of his pocket and using it to light the hall. It wasn’t much, but it allowed Seb to see that the branch they were in seemed to stretch forever on both sides. It was like something out of a nightmare, the one where you wanted to get to your parents’ room, but the distance grew with each step you took until you could no longer see the door in front of you. “Ally, do you have a flashlight?” Without a word, she digs around in the pocket of her shorts and produces a small one, the metal gleaming under the firelight. She was hunched over as well, breaths wheezing out as she struggled to suck in air.

_S_ _he’s asthmatic_ , Seb recalls, _where’s her inhaler?_

Kelsey always carried one around just in case, but Seb’s never been that considerate and now he was starting to regret it. “Here, use this.” Jim produces an inhaler from his pants pocket, handing it over and watching to blonde trigger it a couple of times before speaking again. “It’s certainly a good thing we all fell asleep before we changed into our pajamas or else we’d be blind and you’d probably be dead.”

“Fuck,” she rasps out,” you.”

“Maybe when we get out of here.”

“If the two of you are finished, d’you think we can keep moving,” Seb asks dryly. He takes the flashlight from Jim and begins to walk, taking comfort in the warmth the Irishman on his left was giving off. He’d already decided not to mention the bugs again, he just wanted to find a way out of this damn temple and then hightail it back to London where the only odd thing he had to deal with was Jim’s mood swings.

“Let’s take this left up here and see if we can’t get our bearings.” Seb follows the suggestion, letting out a shout as the ground beneath their feet trembles the moment they’ve rounded the corner. He barely had time to regain his balance when a pile of sand started to build up a few feet ahead of him, the top exploding and thousands of shiny black beetles spurting out.

“Scarabs,” Alicia yells, the three of them already in the motion of turning. The sprint starts back up as they run down the long hall, the swarm of bugs right on their heels and covering every inch of the golden sand. The next turn they made had them scurrying up a stone ramp, Jim and Seb leaping to the side onto a pedestal seconds before the swarm of insects went past, a few of them falling off the edge of the ramp and into the blackness below.

“Well, that was dramatic.” Seb gives him an unamused look, waiting for a comment from Alicia. When it doesn’t come, he looks around and notices for the first time that she wasn’t with them. _Did she fall behind while we were running?_

“Alicia,” Seb calls, not yet brave enough to leave the safe haven he’d found.

“Ally?

“Alicia!” Jim jumps back onto the ramp with Seb following after him, the men going over to a small grotto they hadn’t noticed during the initial chase. “What do you think? Trap door?”

“There’s gotta be a switch somewhere.” Seb rams the butt of his rifle against the stone as hard as he can, trying to force the door open with no results. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“Would you like to give it a shot?” Whatever reply Jim had was cut off by the sounds of people screaming, then a group of people were running into the cavern the opposite way Seb had just come from, Donovan in the lead.

“Run,” she screams, curly hair streaming out behind her,” run! They’re coming!” The chittering of scarabs bounced off the walls and Seb wastes no time in pushing Jim ahead of him, running back down the ramp behind the others and catching up to Henry and Donovan near the front. He could hear more screaming behind him, throwing a look over his shoulder in time to see one of the diggers fall beneath the wave of bugs. It seemed to only last a second, but the digger was nothing but bones when the scarabs left him behind.  _Oh, holy hell._

Seb doesn’t know when he took the lead or even where he was going, the phrase ‘ _get him out, don’t let him down’_ repeating in his mind as he kept moving, his grip on Jim’s shirt sweaty but secure. He runs and runs for what seems like hours, skidding to a stop only when he finds himself right next to Alicia.

“We can play Hide-and-Seek later," he shouts," now let’s move!” But she seemed frozen in place, gaze trained on something over his shoulder as the little color she had left drained from her cheeks. “What?” He turns, feeling as though he’d been punched in the stomach as he spots the skeletal form of their dead guy that was most definitely _not_ supposed to be lurking around. “Whoa!”

“Is that,” Watson starts, pointing at the creature with wide eyes. For a second, they all just stare at each other in shock, the monster seeming just as dumbfounded as they were. The moment is shattered as the mummy shrieks at them, an ear-piercing sound more suited to TV screen than just a few short feet away. Feeling the frustration welling in his chest, Seb shrieks back, emptying a round of buckshot into the mummy’s hips and knocking it to the ground.

“Everybody out,” he growls at the others, shoving Alicia and Jim on ahead of him. Alicia, gaining back some of her wits, directs them the rest of the way, all of them barreling out of the temple five minutes later. They come to a stumbling halt just outside, staring down the well-armed group of Medjai with Munir and Bari kneeling fearfully in front of them. The leader pulls the black veil down to reveal his face, taking a step forward with a grim set to his mouth.

“I told you to leave or die,” the man says,” yet you refused. Now, you may have killed us all, for you have unleashed the creature we have feared for more than three thousand years.”

“I took him down if that makes any difference.”

“No mortal weapons can kill this creature. He’s not of this world.”

“Are we talkin’ about the same creature? The walking corpse; really big mouth, really bad breath?”

The leader steps aside as two of his men drag another person between them, Tom’s entire frame shaking as he stayed hunched over between his guards. Seb grimaces when he sees the extent of the man’s injuries, Donovan and Henry cradling the younger man against them as the soldiers step back in their line. Tom let out small whimpers of pain, empty eye sockets not letting him see who it was holding him.

“You bastards,” Henry rasps, staring up at the Medjai accusingly. “What did you do to him?”

“We saved him,” the leader states in a firm tone. “Before the creature could finish the job. Unless you would like to share a similar fate, I’d suggest all of you leave Egypt as quickly as you can." He says something in Arabic, the men behind him filing into the tomb with their rifles shouldered. “I will go on the hunt tonight and try to find a way to kill him.”

“I already told you, I got him,” Seb reminds him. “He took a shotgun blast right to the midsection.” The man pauses and turns to face Sebastian again, a crease between his brows and sorrow in his voice.

“Know this, this creature is the bringer of death. He will never eat, he will never sleep, and he will never stop.”

No one talks until the Medjai were gone, then John whirls on Sherlock with a glare that rivaled some of Jim’s. “Sherlock Holmes, you better have a damn good explanation!”

“Just because I’m a sociopath doesn’t mean I’m the one that summoned the bringer of death,” Sherlock growls, the offense plain on his face. After a beat, where they all turned their gazes to him, he gives a faint grumble. “On second thought, I completely understand why you’d think that, John.”


	12. Bloody Booze and Undead Visitors

It wasn’t ten minutes once they returned to Cairo that Munir had fresh clothes ready for all of them. Granted, those clothes were all white button-downs and khakis, but Seb wasn’t going to complain after wearing the same clothes for nearly five days straight. Alicia had made quick work tying the ends of her shirt together and turning her pants into shorts, allowing Seb his first look at the tattoo she sported on her lower back while Jim was busy haggling some poor tailor out of a pair of designer pants and a nice vest to go with his button-down.

Another ten minutes and they all had rooms in a local hotel, one of several that the Pond family had been running for generations, though it didn’t get popular until around the forties (Seb liked to read plaques and there were plenty of them around the hotel). Seb let Jim make all the arrangements, deciding a drink was far more important than bargaining with Carsen for a ride home in exchange for a nice country estate for his retirement next year.

Feeling human again, Seb finds a seat near the bar, ordering a shot glass and a bottle of whisky before allowing himself to relax. Watson, Holmes and Alicia joined him a short time later, each of them gesturing for a waitress to bring them a shot glass as well. After the harsh nights they’d spent trying to make it back to civilization, Seb figured each of them had earned a stiff drink.

“I don’t know about you lot,” Holmes says, cradling his glass against his cheek instead of drinking it,” but I’m taking a week off once I get home. No phone call, no mysteries, just me and my dark bedroom with no one around.” His strange eyes linger on the dark bruise coloring Watson’s cheek, brushing his fingers over it. Watson leaned into the touch, blue eyes fluttering shut under Homes’ gentle touch.

“That sounds like heaven right about now,” Ally sighs, trying her hardest to keep her eyes open. She looked awful, blonde hair frizzy in the heat and most of it out of the messy braid it’d started out in. “Well, that and a bubble bath with a nice glass of wine.”

“Didn’t take you as the wine type,” Watson says.

“I’m not picky when it comes to my booze, Doc.” They lapse into silence, nursing their drinks and attempting to ignore the constant chattering of the people surrounding them. It was surprisingly easy, Sebastian half-asleep by the time Donovan and Henry make their way to the bar. They both probably looked as bad as they felt, clothing disheveled and hair out of place as they pull up chairs to the crowded table.

“How’s Tom doing?”

“He had his eyes and his tongue ripped out,” Donovan says bitterly. “How do you think he’s doing?” Watson doesn’t rise to the bait, downing his shot and then pouring another round for everyone. “We leave in the morning on the first plane out of here. I’d like to see that sacred walking corpse get us in London.”

“Speaking of corpses,” Alicia says, finally sitting up in her chair,” I’ve been wondering something. You think Toilet Breath will leave us alone if we get him addicted to Nutella and Netflix?”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

“A toast then.” Alicia raises her glass, the others following suit. “May the gods bless us and may our undead buddy get his ass torn to pieces before he can find us.” They clink the glasses together and shoot them back, spitting the liquor out as soon as it touched their tongues. It tasted metallic, like he’d almost swallowed a mouthful of pennies instead of cheap booze. “Sweet Jesus!”

“That tasted just like,” Henry trails off, rubbing his shirt sleeve on his tongue as though to get rid of the flavor.

“Blood,” Seb fills in, eyes locked on the small fountain across from them. It has been water flowing out just seconds ago, the sound creating a nice background, but now it was crimson and staining the water pooled beneath it.

“ _And the rivers and waters of Egypt ran red and were as blood_ ,” Watson recites, pale and uneasy as he glances around. “He’s here.” Seb stands so quickly that his chair topples over, running outside into the courtyard in a search for his boyfriend. Jim often had his best ideas while wandering around, which ruled their room out as an option.

“Jim!”

“Marco,” a familiar voice chimes, Seb spying him across the way. He had a book in hand, watching as Seb ran over with a lazy smile. “I figured you’d be well on your way to getting plastered by now.”

“I was, but then the whisky turned into blood.”

“As in plague-type of chemical reaction?”

“That was my thinking, yes.”

“That explains the giant ball of fire hurdling towards us.” Seb follows his gaze, eyes widening as the fire ball hits and creates a crater several yards away, bringing down one of the walls of the fort. The fire and hail continue to rain down all over the city, Seb and Jim running under the eaves with the hope that nothing would block their way. Seb nearly runs smack into Anderson, the little rat regaining his footing and then trying to run back up the stairs. Seb latches onto him, slamming him against the wall.

“Anderson, you little stinkweed! Where you been?”

“You left me,” he yells. “You left me in the desert to rot!”

“Can you blame me?” A shriek from upstairs in the hotel rooms seems to float on the wind, familiar and too frightening for words. He _knew_ that shriek, had heard it in the halls of a cursed city just four and a half days ago. Anderson took the distraction to run off, Seb’s focus shifting entirely to finding the undead bastard.

“Tom’s room,” Jim says, hot on his heels.

“That’s what I was thinkin’, too.” They make it there fairly quickly, the doors wide open as they sprint to the second floor landing. Waiting for them in the sitting room was Tom, looking more like jerky than an actual person, and the creature, standing in front of the fireplace and twitching violently as ropes of muscle wind themselves around his body. The monster growls in pain, turning and staring them down with Tom’s eyes. “We are in serious trouble.”

“Shoot it, Tiger. Shoot it now!” The dead priest begins to stride forward purposefully, the bullets from Sebastian’s pistols not even slowing it down as they tear through the freshly mended ligament. Behind them is a shrill whine that Seb recognized as belonging to Ally, the jumble of footsteps and sound of gunfire lending credence to the fact that she didn’t come alone. Seb lets out a shout as the mummy grasps the front of his shirt and tosses him at the others with barely any effort, toppling them like bowling pins. Jim lands nearby, letting out an indignant grunt as his back collides with the polished floor.

Ally, the only one left standing by some sort of miracle, continues to fire the small pistol she carried everywhere. She didn’t hesitate to move closer, Seb watching through watering eyes as she empties her magazine into the thing’s skull. The bone and muscles regenerate faster than Seb could blink and the blonde is soon trapped between a bookcase and the moldy corpse. It says something, voice garbled and deep, an otherworldly sound Seb could’ve gone his entire life without hearing.

“Keep your thanks to yourself,” Ally states, eyes blazing,” I don’t want it.”

But the creature was leaning in all the same, lipless mouth inches away from Ally’s when discordant piano notes draws its attention to the small white feline tramping over the keys. The monster hisses at the white cat, taking a few steps away from Ally before dissolving into a small whirlwind of sand and disappearing through the window, balcony doors slammed shut behind it.

“We’re so screwed.”  


	13. Finding Answers

Once everyone had calmed down and Alicia had taken a long shower to get the smell of mold off of her (nearly being kissed by a dead guy was probably the second most traumatic thing that could happen to a person), they quickly came up with a game plan. Well, Watson and Sherlock came up with a plan and the others were guilt tripped till hell wouldn’t have it. Apparently taking responsibility for waking up an ancient mummy that wanted to destroy the world was a thing now.

And now here they were, striding through a musty museum in the middle of Cairo, trying to find some director that Ally occasionally sold artifacts to. Munir had stayed behind, doing damage control back at the hotel and making arrangements for Tom’s body to be sent home.

“If anyone can tell us about Tall Dark and Dead,” she was saying as they round the corner into the artifacts room,” then it’s— YOU!” Standing near the guy they came to see was the tribe leader Seb had hoped to never set eyes on again, both men completely relaxed as they turned to look at the new arrivals. Everyone in their group apart from Jim and Ally brought their guns out, aiming them at the leader with the intent to shoot.

“Ah, Miss Mather,” the curator says, sounding bored,” wonderful to see you again, though the circumstances could’ve been better.”

“What’s that asshole doin’ here?”

“Do you really want to know or would you prefer to just shoot us?” Terrence Bey was an older man, his trimmed beard boasting more white than brown and his lips twisted into a scowl. No one lowers their weapons, Seb’s eyes never leaving the other man across the room. The leader was tall and lithe, dark tattoos standing out against brown skin over his cheekbones and a dark goatee framing a sensual mouth. To put it plainly, had the man across the room not tried to kill half the people Seb held dear a few nights ago and a zombie wasn't currently planning to send the world into a thousand years of darkness à la Chase Young, then Seb would probably consider taking him to bed (Jim would as well, mummified corpse be damned).

“Right about now, I think we could go on some faith.” Without looking away from the two men, Alicia rests a hand on top of Seb’s pistol and forces him to lower it, the others doing the same. “How about you explain what exactly is goin’ on here and why you’re hanging around they guy that tried to murder us while we slept.”

“That is a long conversation that’s best had while one is sitting. Follow me and try not to touch anything.” Bari lowers his hand from where he’d been about to touch one of the statues, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere until I hear some introductions,” Jim says, crossing his arms over his chest. Still using that damned accent, not even certain death could stop his acting.  _I could probably threaten him with disembowelment right now and he'd just keep right on using Augustus' posh drawl_.

“Of course.” Terrence bows his head in a nod, meeting Jim’s hard stare with one of his own. “I am Doctor Terrence Bey, the curator of this museum and this is Ardeth Bay, a colleague of sorts.” He starts walking towards an anteroom, the others quickly following after him. The next room is smaller than the last, crowded with all sorts of large displays that offered places to sit. Seb drops down into one of the replica seats from ancient Egypt, Jim sitting in a gold-painted chair across from him while Bari made himself comfortable in a chariot and the others chose to remain standing.

“The pair of us are part of an ancient secret society,” Ardeth explains with a severe frown. Alicia scoffs, looking away from Ardeth’s glare as she crossed her arms over her chest. It would take a much harsher expression to make her scared, her older sister had mastered glares that would have even Jim tripping over his feet in order to take the garbage out.

“For over three thousand years, we have guarded the City of the Dead. We are sworn at manhood to do any and all in our power to stop the High Priest Imhotep from being reborn into this world.”

“And because of you, we have failed. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“And you think this justifies the killing of innocent people,” Henry demands, hands on his hips. “Those diggers we hired were just doing their jobs and one of them was a child!” He gestures angrily in Bari’s direction for emphasis, the teenager looking up with wide eyes.

“To stop this creature,” Terrence asks sarcastically. “Let me think.”

“Yes,” he and Ardeth snap in unison.

“Unbelievable.”

“What’s his issue with cats,” Donovan asks. She and Henry were both standing near Jim, closest to the two men with all the answers. Well, all the answers except how to kill Imhotep, apparently. “He saw mine in the hotel room and I thought he was gonna have a coronary.”

“If you believe the mythology,” Terrence says,” cats are the guardians of the underworld. Imhotep will fear them until he is fully regenerated.”

“And then he will fear nothing,” Ardeth grouses. It seemed his mood was growing blacker and blacker the longer he was forced to stand around and do nothing. Seb understood the feeling, he hated the days when he had no job to keep his mind occupied.

“Yeah, and you know how he gets himself fully regenerated,” Henry demands, voice cracking in his panic. “By killing everyone who opened that chest, that’s how! I might end up looking like a piece of beef jerky by the end of the day, and, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I find that a bit hard to handle!”

“Dammit, Bari,” Alicia snaps, making Bari jump and release the long bow he’d been messing with,” hands to yourself!” She turns her focus to Ardeth, pacing the length of the room as she does so. “Surely there must be some way to kill him? If nothing else, then it’d stop him from calling me Anck-su-namun again. The fucker tried to kiss me, too, which was horrifying on so many levels.” Ardeth and Terrence share a look, dawning realization in their eyes.

“It was because of his love for Anck-su-namun that he was cursed,” Terrence starts,” apparently, even after three thousand years—”

“He is still in love with her,” Ardeth finishes.

“That’s romantic and all, but what does it have to do with me,” Ally queries, nervously twisting a ring around one of her fingers.

“It is because you’re the first woman he’s seen in all this time. He has chosen you to be the human sacrifice needed to regenerate the body of his lost love.”

“Boy, am I glad I have a dick,” Bari mutters with a sympathetic look in Ally’s direction. She pins him in place with a glare, a silent promise that she’d whoop his ass as soon as all this mummy business had finished.

“Perhaps this will give us some extra time to kill the creature,” Terrence muses. “The sacrifice is a long ritual and he’d have to take you all the way back to Hamunaptra in order to complete it.” Seb goes to roll his eyes, but stops halfway through the motion as a dark shadow falls over the room. He stands and looks up to the skylight high above them, watching as the moon covers the sun to create an eclipse. _That’s not right, Jim said the next full solar eclipse wouldn’t happen until ten years from now_. But there it was, plain for everyone to see.

“ _And he stretched forth his hand towards the heavens_ ,” Holmes recites,” _and there was darkness throughout the land of Egypt_."

“And here I was hoping he’d be too distracted by cat videos to go through with his master plan,” Seb mutters, hands in his pants pockets.

“What are you,” Watson asks,” six feet and two inches of pure sass?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, those last two inches are Doctor Who trivia.”

* * *

 

After agreeing to meet up again once one of their groups finds something useful, Seb’s group piles into a rental car and makes their way back to the hotel. Personally, he just wanted to crash for a few hours, but he doubted he’d get so lucky. Instead, he keeps his shoulders squared and chin up, the very image of a determined soldier. The trip to their rooms, like the trip to the hotel, was silent, the discussions only starting once they were in his and Jim’s sitting room with the doors shut behind them.

“So everyone that opened the chest is right here,” Seb checks, nodding along when it’s confirmed. “And the chick he wants to use as a sacrifice is here, so we’re all one giant target with no clue as to what’s about to happen.”

“That sums it up nicely,” Munir sighs. He was leaning against the doorjamb, not quite on the balcony as he stares out at the city he’d grown up in. For all he knew, it was about to be a pile of rubble and Seb couldn’t blame him for wanting one last glance at his home. “And to think, I’d hoped the worst part of this whole charade would be the scorpions.”

“I’d prefer one of those right about now.” Seb runs a hand over his face, weary eyes closing for what felt like the first time since coming to this damn country. He could feel pressure building behind them, but tried to push it to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry about, like what Kelsey would do to his corpse if he died before Thalia was fully raised.

“It seems like the only one really missing is Anderson,” Donovan comments, sitting at the table with her head in her hands. “Not surprising, though.” _Where’s he gotten to?_ Seb bites his lip as he thinks, trying to remember the last time he’d seen Anderson. His brows furrow, the memory of pinning the fink against a wall right downstairs forming clearly in his mind. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he’d showed up right as Imhotep did or that he was running from the hotel as Tom was being sucked dry.

“Anderson’s working with Imhotep.” Everyone looks up at that, the realization not surprising. The other man would do anything to save his own skin, even if it meant selling out his old friends and lover to a fucking zombie. “We find him, then maybe we can convince him to tell us how to defeat Imhotep.”

“If by convince you mean hurt him, then I’m in,” Watson says. He looked ready to commit murder, hands steady despite the nerves they’re all suffering from. The thought of action still excites him, a sentiment that’s shared by Sebastian. “Where would he be hiding?”

“My office,” Henry mumbles, fingers laced with Alicia’s. “He’ll be thinking I stored the canopic jar there.” He holds up said jar, the jewel-studded marble looking beautiful.

“Then you get to lead the way there.”

“No, I’m not leaving the hotel! It’s safer here than it is wandering the streets!”

“Obviously it’s not or did you forget about what happened just three hours ago? If Imhotep wants you, then you won’t be able to stop him!” Henry clenches his jaw and sinks further in the chair, refusing to meet Watson’s heated gaze.

“I’ll show you the way,” Alicia offers, reluctantly standing up. She looked exhausted, swaying on her feet.

“No, you’re staying here for now. From now on, Seb and I are in charge and you all will listen to us or we’ll put you outside like strays.”

“Well, I didn’t vote for you.” Looking utterly put-upon, Watson scoops Ally up onto his shoulder and strides into the connecting bedroom, depositing her onto the four-poster before leaving and slamming the doors shut behind him. Seb could hear Ally slamming into the doors a second later, but he picks up the room key off the table and locks the doors to keep her inside.

“Now that that’s settled,” Seb announces,” Watson and I will go track down our rat. Donovan, I’m holding you personally responsible if Alicia gets sacrificed. She doesn’t come out of that room and no one goes in, got it?”

“Got it,” Donovan confirms.

“Munir, you get to tag along to Henry’s office. That okay with you?” The older man nods mutely, pushing off the wall and shouldering his bag. “Jim, you, Holmes and Bari go get all the bags packed, we’re leaving as soon as all of this is finished and I’d like to do that as painlessly as possible. If I get back to London and find out my phone charger was left behind, then I’ll be very upset.”

* * *

Stumbling back into the hotel room and hour later and one person short, Seb had hoped to find everything peaceful so that he could collapse on the couch and get some shut-eye. Instead, he finds Donovan’s body lying near the opened window—little more than skin pulled taunt over bones, if anyone was wondering—and a few grains of sand leading up to the closed bedroom doors.

“That doesn’t bode well,” he grunts, kneeling in front of the doors to peer through the keyhole. Everything seemed normal until his gaze landed on the bed, Alicia sound asleep on top of the covers and Imhotep sitting next to her, bent as though about to kiss her. “Aw, crap.” Seb grabs Donovan’s cat as his stands, putting as much force as he can into a kick that had the locked doors banging open.

“Hey,” Watson shouts,” get your ugly face off of her!” Alicia’s eyes open wide, a panicked gasp escaping as she beat against her attacker’s chest. Unlike before, Imhotep seemed almost fully regenerated, only his mouth and part of his neck retaining the skeletal quality. The creature sits up, growling something at them in ancient Egyptian even as Ally scrambled off the other side of the bed.

“No clue what you just said, pal, but lookie here!” Seb raises the cat up, watching on in grim satisfaction as Imhotep lets out a growled yell. There was honest-to-God fear in his dark eyes, continuing to scream as he stumbled towards the window. Cleo didn’t seem pleased to see him either, the cat hissing and spitting in distaste. Seb ducks down as Imhotep’s form breaks down into sand, blowing out the window just like the last time Cleo had rescued them.

“Our friend’s about as subtle as Colonel Flagg.” 

“He’s certainly got the same flare for dramatics. You okay over there, Ally?”

“I’ve been better,” she grumbles, crawling around the bed until she could see them. Her hair was a tangled mess, the small braid near the top coming undone. The others gathered in the room a second later, Jim looking around in confusion. “Anybody got a breath mint?”


	14. Boils and Sores and Mummies Oh My

Terrence and Ardeth were waiting just inside the front door when the others showed back up at the museum, looking haggard after the news of Munir and Donovan’s deaths. While Munir hadn’t been around to see the chest opened, he’d accidentally grabbed the wrong bag and Imhotep had sucked him dry in order to get the canopic jar and _Book of the Dead_. They’d dropped Bari off before heading straight to the museum, all of them agreeing he’d be safer with a family friend rather than with the group currently being hunted down.

“Does she always talk this much,” Henry asks as they start up a set of stairs.

“Only when she’s nervous or tired,” Seb answers, not fully paying attention to the blonde walking ahead of them. Alicia’s been talking almost constantly since she was kissed, a nervous chatter that was quickly proving to be annoying.

“… According the legend, the black book is supposed to bring people back from the dead,” she was rambling, barely pausing long enough to breathe. “Until now, I’d thought it was just a bunch of hocus pocus.”

“You and Jim sure proved that notion wrong.”

“Which leads to my next line of thinking. If the black book brought him back—”

“—Then the gold one will put him down again,” Holmes interrupts. “That would be the logical conclusion, though none of this situation is entirely logical.” His lips twitched, Holmes uncomfortable at the thought of all this fairy tale and hokum actually being real. Seb was having a hard time wrapping his head around it as well, wondering if all the legends were true. “How are we supposed to find the _Book of Amun-Ra?”_

“That’s why we’re here. I found mention of—” Alicia’s cut off again by the sound of loud chanting coming from outside, the sound carrying on the wind. Curious, they all move to the left end of the hall, peering out a large window that overlooked the courtyard. Gathered outside and marching ever closer is a mob of people, bodies marred by opened sores and torches clutched in their hands, chanting in monotone as though they were under some sort of spell.

“ _Imhotep…. Imhotep…. Imhotep…._ ”

“And there’s another plague for us,” Holmes says, scowling down at the people below. “Boils and sores, though I don’t remember the afflicted carrying around torches and pitchforks.”

“I guess that just makes us lucky,” Jim says, frowning.

“They have become his slaves,” Ardeth announces grimly. There were at least three hundred people gathered down there, Imhotep marching through the middle with Anderson at his side. “So it has begun, the beginning of the end.”

“Aren’t you a chipper fellow tonight? Alicia, let’s get moving.” She nods, leading the way over to one of the large stone displays in the middle of the hall, Ally deciphering the top while Terrence took the bottom and the others stood around uselessly. The chanting continued outside, joined by loud banging against the heavy doors.  

“According to Bembridge scholars, the  _Book of Amun-Ra_  is meant to be in the statue of Anubis,” she informs the others, fingers and eyes moving rapidly over the chunk of dark stone. It was easily taller than her by a good few inches, wider even than Sebastian.

“But that’s where we found the other book,” Seb says impatiently.

“I figure that the golden book will be where the black one was meant be. That would put it…” The sound of cracking wood has Seb moving to peer over the balcony in time to spy several people filling in the lower levels. It would take only seconds for them to get up onto the second floor, more than a few of them wielding rusty swords and machetes.

“Not to break your concentration,” Watson says,” but you need to hurry up, Ally.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Not right now, it isn’t.”

“You know what,” Jim says, taking a step back from the railing,” I think I’ll go pull the car around.” He’s gone before Seb could open his mouth, disappearing through a door that had _STAFF ONLY_ painted on it.

“I’ve got it,” Alicia states proudly. “The golden _Book of Amun-Ra_ is at Hamunaptra inside the statue of Horus. Take that, Bembridge scholars!”

“That’s wonderful,” Henry says, grabbing Ally’s arm. “Tell us all about where to find it after we escape these madmen.” He drags Ally after him the same way Jim had gone, Seb and Watson only pausing long enough to incapacitate two charging boil-covered men before sprinting after them. The crowd was mostly inside the museum by the time they push a staff exit open, the comforting rumble of a car’s engine giving Seb hope that Jim was still alive.

“Get it in gear, Jim!” Seb and the others practically dive into the convertible, sparing a glance behind them for the mob. It wouldn’t take them long to get turned around, Seb sending up a quiet prayer for an easy escape.

“Imhotep,” Anderson screams as he comes out the front door to catch them just as they were peeling out. “Imhotep, they’re escaping!”

“You’re gonna get yours, Beni,” Sebastian shouts as they speed past. “You hear me? You’re gonna get yours!” As one, the mob begins to pour back out of the museum at Imhotep’s howl, chasing the convertible through the abandoned bazaar. For a while it seemed like they were actually in the lead, losing the mob as they screeched around corner after corner, but that hope is dashed against the rocks when Jim slams on his breaks. Ahead of them, revealed by the bright headlights, was a new mob, just swaying with the breeze. With his hands tight on the steering wheel, Jim slams his foot down on the gas again and the car lurches forward, plowing through the crowd like they were nothing. Bodies rolled off and over the car, a few managing to cling to it only to be fought off. More and more people pour in off side streets, jumping onto the trunk and sides of the car, trying to pull people out.

Seb, unable to reach his pistol, relies on his days spent fighting in boarding school. If you wanted to survive there, then you couldn’t be afraid to spill a little blood and that’s exactly what he did. He and the others punched and pushed and shoved, a continuous battle to get the mob off the car and stay alive in the process.

“Moran,” a high voice screamed behind him. Seb follows the sound and finds Henry already half out of the car, a pair of infected men pulling him with them onto the street. Seb lunges forward to grab him, managing to get part of his shirt only to have the fabric rip as he topples backwards. Jim doesn’t notice the absence and Seb doesn’t shout for him to stop, continuing in the fight to keep everyone else in the car safe.

Seb doesn’t slow down until the car crashes into a fountain, sending him sideways and to the cold asphalt with a harsh grunt of pain. In spite of his protesting muscles, he rolls to his stomach and gets up, helping Jim out of the ruined car as the mob begins to close in around them. They’re herded together like sheep, trapped between sick lackeys and vendor stalls as Imhotep waltzes through the parting crowed like Moses through the Red Sea. Gone were the scarab beetles that feasted on him and the skeletal remains, he was fully regenerated and dressed in dark robes.

“ _Keetah mi pharos, aja nilo, isirlan_ ,” Imhotep intones, the full force of his gaze shifting between Jim and Alicia. It was almost like he couldn’t decide who would be best to sacrifice and Seb’s protective nature flared to life so fast he’s surprised his head didn’t start spinning.

“Come with me, my princess,” Anderson translates. “It is time to make you mine forever.”

“He obviously said _for all eternity_ , Ferret Face,” Jim corrects snappily. And now Imhotep’s gaze is definitely focused on Jim, dark eyes narrowed as he takes in every detail. He looked interested, a bit like how Jim looked after witnessing Seb carrying out a hit for the first time.

“ _Koontash dai na_ ,” Imhotep says, holding out one of his hands. It wasn’t the smooth brown of most people Seb’s seen since coming here, it was a golden tan that spoke of roots other than Egypt. Or perhaps one of his parents immigrated to Egypt, it would explain why he looked nothing like the crowd behind him.  _Greeks often came to Egypt, didn't they? Even Cleopatra the seventh was more Greek than Egyptian_. 

“She’s not taking your hand, bub. I let her die and her sister will revoke my Thalia privileges.” Except Imhotep had his other hand outstretched, one for Ally and one for Jim. “I’m flattered, but I’ve already got a boyfriend.” He slaps Seb’s ass for emphasis, the sniper letting out an undignified yelp in surprise.

“I don’t suppose any of y’all has an idea on how to get out of this,” Alicia grumbles on Seb’s right. “Cause I don’t feel like playing host to some ancient ho’s ghost.”

“You better think of something, Tiger, because if he turns me into a mummy, you’re the first one I'm coming after.”

“Did that sound romantic in your head, Boss,” he asks, only half-joking as he looks down. Jim’s expression was solemn as their gazes meet, dark brown eyes studying Seb’s face intently. It’s like he was looking for something, some sign to show he hadn’t been wasting his time all these years. “I’ll always be your knight in shining armor, even if it’s a mummy I’m rescuing you from instead of a dragon.”

“Good.” He puts a hand on the back of Seb’s neck to get him to lean down, planting a demanding kiss against his lips. Seb’s shared a lot of kisses with Jim since they got together, but this was something else entirely; it was soft and lingering, meaningful, and filled with something Seb wasn’t sure either of them were ready to admit just yet. “I’ve got my phone.” Seb nods, resting his forehead against Jim’s and fighting back all instincts to rip Imhotep’s head off when Jim pulls away.

“Are we really doing this,” Alicia asks, voice as unsteady as the hand she lets Imhotep take.

“It’s probably not our brightest idea, but it’s the only one we got right now.” The crowd parts once more, wider this time to allow the trio passage. Seb grits his teeth as he watches them go, every fiber of him yelling to go after them, to get them back and make sure nothing ever happened to what little family he actually has.

Imhotep shouts out a command, the crowd surging forward as Anderson slinks away, Jim and Alicia’s screaming enough to have Sebastian seeing red. Sebastian wanted to tear the crowd apart, but a firm grasp on his shirt had him stumbling back dangerously close to a hole he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“No,” Seb growls, struggling to go after his boyfriend.

“We’ll get them back,” Watson swears, shaking him until Seb looks down. “I promise you that we will rescue them, but we can’t do that if we’re dead!” He manhandles Seb over to the round hole the ground, a metal cover resting just beside it. “Go! Follow Sherlock!” Reluctantly, Seb climbs down the metal rungs, ignoring the grit and slime under his hands until he made it to a small concrete ledge. Ardeth was right behind him, barely making it out of the way before Watson leapt down, landing in the sludge of the sewer.

“Terrence,” Ardeth starts, but Watson shakes his head. The other man’s expression hardens, hands balled into fists at his sides. “Then we must find some way to get back to Hamunaptra.”

“A way that’s fast,” Sebastian adds. “Jim wasn’t kidding when he said he’d come get me once he’s zombified.”

“A plane would come in handy.” Seb lowers his head, focused more on wiping the gunk off his hands and onto his pants. It would take a full morning and afternoon to get back to the city and he’d have to bargain a little, but he’s almost certain Carsen would do it if he knew Jim was in trouble. Nodding a little, he glances back up at the others and heaves a sigh.

“I think I might know a guy.”


	15. Imhotep's Man Cave

To say the trip to Egypt hadn’t gone according to plan would be like saying Sebastian was only mildly fond of guns—a gross under exaggeration and, frankly, a wholly stupid thing to say. And, as the cherry on top, Jim could add ‘being thrown out of a human sand-devil’ to his list of reasons why people should just stop reading from potentially cursed books found in ancient tombs. He stands up and brushes sand off his clothes, frowning at the wrinkles that would be nearly impossible to get out. He paid a lot of money for his clothes, so would it really be too much trouble for these people to leave them pristine?

“Just so you’re not confused later,” Ally says, coming to stand next to him,” I’m blocking you on everything. No more jobs, no more trading antiques, and no more late-night Facebook conversations where you complain about Sebastian’s snoring.”

“That’s fair.” He looks over as the sand forms into the well-sculpted body of Imhotep, now only wearing a gauzy black robe and a… “Is that a loincloth?”

“That is a loincloth. So, not only will I be a host for his dead girlfriend, I’m gonna be stuck with an egomaniac that likes wearing a goddamn loincloth in mixed company. Fantastic, how much more of this crazy shit can get heaped onto my shoulders today?” The sound of whirring helicopter blades draws everyone’s attention to the sky, the sleek form that rises over the dunes making the tight feeling in Jim’s chest ease.

“My, Sebby, you _were_ paying attention before we left.” Carsen’s helicopter was a welcome sight and Jim allowed himself to relax at the thought of the blond man armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. Just moments later, a dull roar fills his ears, Imhotep using his magic to sweep up a mile’s worth of sand and send it towards the helicopter in one massive wave, his jaw unhinging like a snake’s and his image appearing in the golden sand.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m calling bullshit! You hear me, God?! This is bullshit!” _He’s going to kill them_. The thought of having to dig Sebastian’s mangled body out of all the sand, of having to explain to a little girl that her daddy would never be coming home again, was enough to get him moving. His mind felt blank and numb for the first time in his life, hands sweaty as he yanks Imhotep’s head down for a rough kiss if only to get his attention.

_Just long enough to let the helicopter get away_ , he thinks, _just long enough to ensure Sebastian’s safety_. He keeps his eyes on the sight over Imhotep’s shoulder, allowing himself to relax when the sand returned to the earth and the helicopter remained flying. Jim only pulls away when he was sure they’d be fine, smiling triumphantly until it went down a minute later behind a dune, the dull crash of rending metal reaching him at the same time that his heart falls into his stomach.

“No,” he rasps, trying to run towards to wreck only to have Imhotep yank him back by his hair. “No! Sebastian!” He couldn’t breathe, it was like his throat started to close up the moment the helicopter went down.

“Hey,” Alicia murmurs, catching him as he started to fall. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” She was whispering in his ear, but he could barely hear her over the pounding in his head, eyes fixed on the last spot he’d seen Sebastian. _He was there, he was alive, and now he’s gone_. It wasn’t fair, Seb was the one with everything to live for. Seb had the baby girl that loved him unconditionally and all the ambition in life, and now that was all wiped away with an explosion of sand. “Jimmy, if anyone can survive something like that, then it’s Sebastian.”

“He didn’t even want to be here.” Jim looks up at Alicia, teeth grinding together as he fought back the sting of tears. “I made him come here and now _he’s dead!_ ”

“That’s highly unlikely,” she hisses, keeping a tight grip on him. “All that sand out there would’ve cushioned the blow and it looked like a couple of people were jumping when the helicopter started to go down. _He’s gonna be fine_.” He forces himself to take a few slow breaths, part of him still convinced she was telling the truth even if the rational part of his brain was calling her a dirty liar. He was allowed a moment to compose himself before Imhotep pulled him to his feet by the back of his jacket, tearing the expensive material.

“Careful, that costs more than you made in a year!”

“Yeah, you’ll be okay.” He pushes Imhotep off with a deep scowl, straightening his clothes as a form of silent protest.

“Move,” Anderson demands from behind, jabbing at them with the pistol he held. Jim straightens his shoulders, following after Imhotep towards Hamunaptra. If he’d known how much trouble this damned city would be just a few days ago, then he would’ve burned the map the second he got to Alicia’s office.

“Think we can make a run for it?”

“No,” he says, keeping his eyes on the abandoned city. “Imhotep would just poof us back here with his sand magic.” The truth was, he’d already considered the idea and quickly scrapped it before they were even brought here. They’d just have to wait for reinforcements or until either of them could get their hands on the gold book. “Stick to the plan.”

“I don’t think that’s as comforting as you meant it to be.”

“It’s all we have right now.” So they keep walking and Anderson keeps prodding them with the pistol when he feels they’re slacking, making for a very unpleasant six and a half minutes to the entrance with stairs they’d found. Sure, it wasn’t as dramatic as sliding down a rope and ending up in the embalming chamber, but it was more effective and was connected to a hall that led directly into the underground heart of the city.

The halls were dark, but the ancient mirrors provided just enough light for them to see where they were going once they were inside. Imhotep seemed to have the route memorized, walking without hesitating at any of the numerous twists and turns, heading up ramps and down stairs until they were so far down that even their undead guide had to stop and light a torch.

“Keep moving,” Anderson grunts, the barrel of the gun digging into Jim’s lower back.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance,” he discloses, gaze moving from Anderson’s unruly mop of dark hair to his shoes and back to his pinched face. He gives the rat a nasty smile, eyes reflecting none of his emotions in a way that made some people think of sharks. _Dead eyes_ , he’s heard people call them, but they’ve never seen dead eyes until they met Magnussen.

“They do?”

“Suffice it to say, if you don’t get that here, then you can be sure I’ll deal it out back in England.” Anderson swallows hard, staring after him as Jim continues down yet another set of stairs. They were worn down from time, smooth and treacherous to someone that had no balance. Ally keeps a hand on his arm as they go, keeping her gaze on the floor so as not to trip while Jim kept his eyes straight ahead to keep them from running into someone—the buddy system worked wonders—though both cast a distasteful look at the moat they crossed, filled with stagnant water and God only knows what else.

“I think I’ll be staying out of Egypt for a while after this,” Alicia says as they kept going. “It’d do Bari some good to see other parts of the world after the funeral.”

“You’re taking him in?” It was surprising, not even he could say he’d expected her to take the boy in. She didn’t exactly scream _maternal instincts_ when you looked at her, though he supposed Seb and Kelsey didn’t either. “Doesn’t he have a mother to take care of him?”

“She died a few months ago of cancer.” Ally shrugs, free hand playing with the zipper of her jacket. It didn’t really go with the green dress she’d changed into the night before, but it’s not as though she had too many options at the time. “Besides, he’ll need someone to talk to and he can’t exactly tell a shrink that his daddy was killed by an ancient mummy that his friend summoned from the grave.”

“Good point, I hadn’t thought of that. Well, you’re both welcome to stay at the flat I’ve got in Dublin. I do have to warn you that my ex-girlfriend and son live across the hall and she likes to put her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Alicia comes up short, looking at him in surprise. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“You have a kid?”

“Yes, a little boy named Alexander. He’d be two now.” He can still remember the nights he’d spent singing to the baby, the only one capable of lulling him to sleep in under an hour. Jim wasn’t as stable back then, so Janine had forbidden any interaction that wasn’t through the mail and that probably explained the compulsive need he felt to spend time with Thalia. “Beautiful head of dark hair and my eyes.”

“You…. You’d be a pretty great dad.”

“Maybe I’ll get a chance to prove that to Janine someday. Until then, I believe we’re needed up ahead.” She nods, walking with him into a large chamber they’d never gotten the chance to explore. It had to be five stories beneath the surface by now, every inch of the room covered in cobwebs and dust so thick you could write out the Declaration of Independence with no problem. Three stone altars were set near a moderate-sized pool of tar, each of them boasting a set of manacles that looked as though they’d seen better days. The ceiling above was held by massive columns, a few hieroglyphics etched into the side yet too worn for him to read; on the wall closest to them were more glyphs and an etching of two men holding tools, possibly embalmers that used to work down here. Jim couldn’t be sure without reading them, but his gaze kept roving about their surroundings, taking in the set of stairs across the room that led to a second landing far above their heads.

Imhotep gets to work immediately, setting out the canopic jars along one of the altars, arranging them in a way that made sense only to him. _Four_ , Jim notes, _liver, lungs, stomach and intestines, which means Anck-su-namun’s heart is still inside her body_. His thoughts are derailed by a gunshot echoing through the tomb, hope beginning to seep into his bones again. _He’s alive_.

“Told ya so,” Alicia brags. Imhotep pulls an organ out of one of the jars, crushing it in his hand as he turned towards the wall with the carvings and blows the dust onto it. _The stomach, guarded by Duamutef, who is one of the four sons of Horus_. Imhotep speaks something like a summons, the crack of stone giving his words truer meaning as the two men in the carving turn into stumbling mummies, bowing to their master. “Goddammit, we just need one break.”

“Maybe you’ll win the lottery when we get home. Good karma and all that.” Jim, Alicia, and Anderson all watch with fear as the mummies limp off to find the others, Imhotep’s order for murder making Jim’s stomach cramp. “Bembridge scholars never wrote about this.”

“I’m starting to think they were pulling facts out of their asses when they wrote all those papers.” Anderson starts backing away slowly as Imhotep focused back on arranging the jars and book, able to leave before the creature turned around again. Imhotep didn’t seem worried, simply grabbing Alicia and hauling her up onto the altar and chaining her in place before she could roll off. Imhotep looks to Jim next, the shorter man choosing the altar on the other end, one of the manacles too busted to be used and allowing him a free hand.

“You okay over there?”

“I’ve been better, but thanks for askin’.” Imhotep disappears up the stairs, returning a few minutes later with a shriveled corpse, the wrappings hanging off it in moldering strips. He carefully lays it out on the middle altar, running his hand not even an inch over the thing’s face with the softest expression Jim’s ever seen on his face. “Well, at least I don’t look like her.”

“There you go, finding the silver lining.” Imhotep turns to Alicia next, doing the same thing he’d just done to the corpse and speaking in a low tone Jim could barely make out. Alicia looks at him around Imhotep raising her brows. “He says he wants your heart, liver, lungs, intestines, and stomach.”

“Just my luck, another date where the guy just wants me for my body.” She begins to grumble under her breath, small foot kicking out every now and again as Imhotep picks up the book.

“He could’ve at least bought you dinner first.” Jim stares up at the reanimated corpse in disappointment, watching as Imhotep moved around the tomb reciting spells to raise the rest of his lackeys from death. It was one thing to hold this creature in high regard because of his power, but then the whole _I’m bringing my dead girlfriend back from the dead_ thing sort of ruined the illusion. With a sigh, he allows his head to thump back against the dark slab.

“Leave it to you to be bored when someone’s about to be sacrificed,” Alicia grouses from the opposite slab. She was the intended vessel, so he supposed that she was allowed to be touchy. He opens his mouth to tell her not to be so worried, but his ringing phone cut him off.

_Yo ho, Sebastian, let’s go far away! Somewhere where the Captain won’t be mad_ —

“Hello again, Tiger,” he drawls, sending Imhotep a lazy smile when the mummy looks his way. “Oh, don’t let me interrupt your ritual, keep going.”

“Are you talking to me, Boss?”

“No, Sebastian, I obviously wasn’t talking to you. Are you finding the way without any problems?”

“Well, Holmes is a pain in the arse and got a bug stuck in his arm, but things are going smoothly other than that.”

“That’s good because your sister-in-law’s about to be a little bit dead and her body the host of some ancient Egyptian hooker.” There a sound of an explosion on Sebastian’s end of the call and Jim arches a brow. “Sounds like Watson’s finally getting to use that dynamite.”

“Do you have a lot of zombies on your end? ‘Cause we just got a lot of zombies over here.”

“Not yet, but I suppose they’ll be heading our way soon. Do hurry up.”

“Right, just keep your phone ringing and we’ll follow the noise.”

“If you say so, darling.” With that, Jim hangs up the phone and slides it back into his filthy suit jacket. That was the most horrifying thing that’s happened over the last few days, his poor suit shredded in places and covered with blood in others. “Calvary’s coming, Ally.”

“Does Seb know what your ringtone for him is,” she asks with a strained smile.

“He will soon enough.” He tilted his head back to belt out the lyrics, Alicia joining in a moment later as Imhotep continues the ominous chanting. “ _Yo ho, Sebastian, I wanna love you good! We deserve much better than we’ve had!”_


	16. Crumbling Stones

Of all the things Seb thought would happen in Egypt—tanning, making sand castles, listening to Jim complain about the lack of shade—having to follow the sound of the world’s most annoying ringtone through an ancient tomb trying to find his boyfriend and sister-in-law before they could be ritually sacrificed hadn’t exactly made the list. In fact, he was a bit miffed he was even in this position when he could be passed out on the couch with his daughter on his chest right now just like he was on every other Sunday.

“This way,” he says, Watson and Holmes flanking him as they made their way through the maze of hallways. The music was growing louder now, accompanied by ominous chanting that never signaled anything good. They kneel on the ground and crawl to the edge of a landing, spotting their friends chained to altars below, surrounded by a large circle of dead priests and Imhotep at the head. Seb’s gaze moves to the doorway on Imhotep’s right, the closest to Alicia and Jim.

“Got a plan,” Watson asks.

“I’m gonna circle around and come out through that door there.” He points and Watson nods that he sees it. “While you two are distracting scarab breath, I’ll cut Ally and Jim loose and they can help read that book.”

“Sounds easy enough. What happens if we’re overrun with shambling half-dead priests?”

“Just have Holmes start talking, hopefully they’ll get bored and run away.”

“I’m not boring,” Holmes frowns, offended.

“You’re not that interesting either, big fella.” Seb crawls back the way he came, only standing again once he was out of sight as he began to make the enormous circle, having to shimmy through yet another crevice in the wall. It was a damn good thing he wasn’t claustrophobic or else the other two would’ve been screwed. He walks on the sides of his feet to minimize the noise he made, edging up to the doorway. Holmes and Watson were still lying on their bellies, Watson giving a curt nod when Seb gives him a thumbs-up.

“Guess who’s still alive,” Holmes shouts, bounding to his feet. Imhotep’s chanting cuts off as he turns his attention to the skinny man. “I’ll have you know it takes a lot more than _minions_ to kill Sherlock Holmes!”

“And to think,” Watson joins in,” that’s him being modest. Look what I got, you slimy git!” _Look who’s channeling their inner pirate_. “I’ve got the golden book and you’ve got bupkis!” He holds the book over his head proudly, he and Holmes’ grins almost manic. “You two okay down there? No mutilations and fatal injuries?”

“Not yet,” Jim hollers,” but there’s still time.” Seb tugs a short sword free from one of the statues, watching as Imhotep strides out of the circle towards the stairs. “You have to read the inscription inside the book to kill him!”

“How the hell are we supposed to open it without the key?”

“Get it out of his robes,” Alicia yells, struggling against her chains. “Have Holmes put his pickpocket skills to good use!” Seb creeps further into the room, waiting until Imhotep was halfway up the stairs before jumping onto a half-buried slab and launching himself over the priests, the momentum and his weight making the sword cut through one of the heavy chains binding Alicia in place. “Seb!”

He doesn’t have time for a witty response, the mummies beginning to attack on Imhotep’s order. It wasn’t one on one like the movies would lead people to believe, they attacked in groups, acting like a Hydra as two more spring up for every one that he takes down. They wouldn’t even stay down as he made his way around the altars, popping back up out of the sand like daisies. In one smooth move, he cuts through a spinal cord and Jim’s chain, earning a grin from the Irishman.

“Did you ever really doubt I’d find you,” he asks, the muscles in his arms beginning to burn as he continues to swing.

“Truthfully, the whole knife against Ally’s chest thing gave me pause.” He kicks out, shiny leather shoe connecting with the chest of an on-coming mummy while Seb dispatched another. Together, they make their way back around the altars, one of the mummies fumbling with its head until Sebastian uses his sword as a bat and knocks it away several feet, the mummy chasing after it. He grins, resting the blade of the sword against his shoulder as he grins at Alicia.

“Mummies.” He was feeling the amusement now, raising the sword to sheer through the last chain only for one of the mummies he’d cut in half earlier drag him to the floor. It starts dragging him toward it, weapon barely out of reach as he tries to scramble backward to no avail. “Jim, a little help would be appreciated if it’s not too much trouble!” Jim grabs up a heavy stone and bashes in the mummy’s fragile skull, kicking it away afterwards as Seb regains his footing.

“See? Teaching me the basics of fighting came in handy after all.”

“Maybe save the bragging for when we’re not all in mortal danger,” Alicia snaps, jingling the chain pointedly.

“Then I’d never get to do it.” Seb cuts through the last remaining chain, helping Ally off the table in time for a new type of rhythmic chanting to be heard. “Now what?” Double doors on the other side of the chamber burst open, even more of the undead filing out holding spears and shields, a military force of ten altogether.

“Motherfucker.” They gather in a straight line, shields in place and weapons poised above their heads, Seb able to make out that a few of them held scimitars. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“Do something, Holmes,” Jim says, the three of them back up and Holmes watching on from above them.

“Me,” he asks, book clutched against his chest. “You’ve got to be joking, I can barely read this stuff!”

“Just finish the inscription on the cover, you idiot, then you can control them!” The curly-haired nincompoop who was nearly impossible to stand in a crisis, disappears around one of the large headstones, safe from the line of soldiers awaiting orders. “We should be fine as long as those things stay on the other side of the pool.” Sebastian nods along with him, one arm out to keep Ally partially behind him.

It seemed to be in vane as a shrieking started up, the corpse on the altar sliding off and brandishing the golden dagger Imhotep had been using earlier. It sounded more like an angered crow, but it wielded the knife expertly, driving Ally backwards as it attempted to stab her. Seb made to go after the blonde when Imhotep called out a command, the other mummies leaping into action. Three of them bound over the pool without even touching it, more like kangaroos than anything as they come to a stop just a yard or so away.

Just like he had with Imhotep, Seb lets out his own war cry to mock them, hoping his bravado would at least put them on edge. Instead, their jaws distended and they howled back, a lot scarier than anything Seb could accomplish.

“Nope, I’m out.” He turns tail and runs back the way he’d come, hauling Jim along with him towards one of the moats. They use a few skeletons as stepping stones, making it across with the mummies right behind them, still shrieking. He thought he was doing good as he and Jim grabbed hold of a rope, cutting the bottom and flying up through the air to another level as the counter weight smashed one of the three mummies in pursuit, but then the rest came sprinting around the corner.

He spins on his heel and runs again, taking the stairs two at a time back to the lower level and only glancing behind him once. Seeing your enemies literally climbing the fucking walls wasn’t something that inspired confidence. He turns again once he made it to the ground, finding nothing behind him this time around. _Maybe I finally got a break_.

“Uh, ‘Bastian,” Jim mumbles, tapping his shoulder,” we’ve got company.”

“Let me guess,” he says,” big guys, a little on the dead side, holding some weapons?”

“Yup.”

“Wonderful.” He turns once more, finding four of the creatures a couple feet away. The closest one brings its sword down, the metal clashing against Seb’s short sword and making sparks fly. Making sure to keep Jim behind him and out of harm’s away the best he could, Seb continues to fight his way across yet another of the bridges, knocking one into the putrid water.

Jim throws a heavy stone at another, knocking it aside and kicking its middle as hard as he could to send it sliding across the sand-strewn ground. Seb knocks the head off one, the dispatching becoming easy with Jim working in tandem. They seemed to be making one big circle, somehow making it back to the stairs. He was halfway up when he lost his balance and went tumbling down them, landing with a hard _thud_ at the bottom. The air knocked out of his lungs, he was forced to watch as Jim was knocked sideways and landed in an unmoving heap on the right of the stairs.

He tries to move backwards, forced to stop when he feels the cold point of spears pressing against his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable when Holmes’ voice rings out, clear as day. “ _Hootash im Ahmenophus!_ ” Seb opens his eyes again when the weapons are withdrawn, the mummies turning to face Holmes with their weapons in front of their faces. They completely disregarded what Imhotep was yelling, waiting on orders once more. “ _Fa-Kooshka Anck-su-namun!_ ”

As one, the mummies march towards their target, giving Seb time to get back on his feet and race over to Jim. He was still lying where he’d fallen, face pale and a small pool of blood beneath his head. Seb drops to his knees, pulling the younger man up onto his lap. “Come on,” he mumbles, lightly slapping Jim’s cheek. “Don’t do this to me, you bastard.” He slaps again slightly harder, Jim sitting bolt upright with a deep, gasping breath. He turns his head to look at Seb, brows furrowed.

“Did you call me a bastard just now?”

“You had it coming for scaring me like that.”

“Ally,” Holmes shouts from above,” I’ve got it!” _That sounds like our cue_. Seb stands up and pulls Jim up as well, the pair leaning on each other as they head up the stairs. They actually make it to the second level this time around, nothing stopping them or pushing them down.

“Go help Holmes and Alicia decipher that book and I’ll help Watson.” Jim nods, running over to the other pair while Seb continues forwards. As it was, Imhotep was beating the holy hell out of Watson, throwing him against walls and delivering punches that looked as though they hurt worse than anything Seb would ever feel. With a cry that sounded braver than he felt, Seb jumps onto Imhotep’s back, arms wrapped securely around the creature’s throat. “This looks a lot easier on TV!”

“I know the feeling,” Watson pants tiredly, lying on his side in the sand. Imhotep bucks under the choke hold, fingers grasping the back of Seb’s shirt and then tossing him over his head like a bull would its rider. He slams against the floor on the lower level, wondering why he doesn’t just stay there. Imhotep jumps down after him, picking him up by his throat like some kind of goddamn Superman.

Imhotep grins and says something, probably a nice villainy one-liner, but it was in ancient Egyptian so Seb didn’t really catch it. He stares down at the creature, mind fuzzy and body slack as he just tries to _breathe, oh Jesus, he can’t breathe_. Black spots were beginning to dance in front of his eyes like dust motes when Jim yells, the words a jumbled mess to Seb’s ears.

“ _Kadeesh mal, kadeesh mal! Pared oos, pared oos!_ ” Seb’s thrown away again, coughing and sputtering as the ghostly silhouette of a chariot races down the stairs, Seti’s spirit whipping the horses as they charge forward. It goes right through Imhotep, dragging a luminescent double right out of him and disappearing up another set of stairs. Watson drags Seb back over to the others, the pool of tar on their left placid for all appearances. Seb grabs the sword as they go, brandishing it as Imhotep turns and starts for them with a new purpose in his stride.

“I thought you said it was gonna kill him,” he complains. The others say nothing, Imhotep reaching out for Seb’s neck right as Seb buries the sword in the creature’s stomach right to the hilt. Imhotep lets out a surprised gasp, staring down at his wound in pain and confusion as blackened blood began to pour out.

“He’s mortal,” Ally explains smugly.

“And mortals die from stab wounds that go untreated,” Jim adds. They all watch with some relief as Imhotep stumbles backwards, sinking lower and lower into the tar and his flesh beginning to deteriorate once more. The tar bubbles around him, sucking him further down into its depths, his last words a resonating growl. “ _Death is only the beginning_.” It wasn’t two seconds afterwards that the ceiling began to lower, a shower of sand falling from the pillars.

“Time to go,” Watson states, grabbing Holmes’ wrist and tugging him along. It was another dead sprint across the bridge, Seb suddenly pleased with all the cardio he’d been doing before coming here. They only stopped once, Holmes falling onto his stomach and the golden book skittering across the stone into the moat. He scrambles back up, catching Ally around the waist as she tried to dive in after it, forcing her to keep moving. There was no time for treasure hunting, not if she wanted to live to see her next birthday.

The halls seemed to pass by in a blur, Watson and Seb doing their best to remember the way out as they race against the clock. It seemed to ceilings were lowering faster, gaining some momentum with help from gravity as the group ran through the treasure room. “Moran,” Anderson shouts behind them, voice high and panicked. “Wait for me! Wait for me!” Seb pays him no mind, his only concern being the doorway that was close to the ground. He tucks into a roll, making it to the other side just seconds before it hit the sand.

Even daylight wasn’t a welcome sight, the structures outside collapsing just like the ones below. It was a whole new kind of exercise just dodging pillars and obelisks as they topple over, the very ground beneath their feet opening up right behind them. But Seb keeps moving, hand sweaty were he’d latched onto Jim’s arm, steering the other man through the wreckage until the collapse was just a faint noise in the distance.

They turn, chests heaving, and watch on as the city crumbles, sinking down into the earth as an eruption of sand shoots up into the air. It was an amazing sight all in all, definitely once in a lifetime as the sand crashed back down to the earth, burying the city beneath it. Hopefully no one would find it again, the map and key left behind in the mad dash to get out alive.

Just as they had all started to relax, Holmes lets out a yell that started a chain reaction, all of them jumping back and expecting to find Imhotep back from the dead. It seems their break was finally earned, the surprise visitor turning out to be Ardeth fuckin’ Bay. Seb wasn’t sure how the other man had managed to survive taking on a horde of mummies singlehandedly, but he didn’t feel like giving that gift horse a dental exam.

“Thank you,” Holmes yells sarcastically up at the warrior. “I’ll name my heart attack after you!” Ardeth smiles, teeth white and straight as he showed them off.

“You have earned the respect of me and my people,” he tells them, dark brown hair falling around his face in rich waves. He really was a beautiful man, not too rustic and not too fanciful, like something out of an adventure movie. “May Allah smile upon you always.” He kisses his knuckles and presses them against his forehead and then towards the others in a gesture that’s vaguely familiar.

“Yeah, you’re not so bad yourself.” Ardeth clicks his tongue, urging the camel he was on to amble away from them. “I guess this means we go home empty-handed… Again.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jim states, meeting Seb’s gaze. The kiss they share is soft and slow, no clicking teeth or clashing tongues as they just enjoy the feel of the other. Seb never wanted it to end, wrapping an arm around Jim’s waist to pull him closer. “Move in with me,” he murmurs against Seb’s lips. “Become part of my family.”

“That’s an awfully big step,” Seb returns, almost whispering as he runs his nose along Jim’s.

“I don’t care, I want you by my side forever. You and Thalia, safe close by, is the only thing I’ve ever wanted so badly.” He nods, bending down to press a chaste kiss to Jim’s lips and enjoying the tenderness there. _Love_ , he realizes _, that kiss before he left with Imhotep was filled with love that Jim’s never felt before_. And, boy, did Seb feel it too, burning right through his veins like fire.

“Let’s make it back to London in one piece first.” He helps Jim up onto a camel and climbs on behind him, Holmes and Watson doing the same and Ally riding by herself. She would pick up Bari after this, take him far away from here after the funeral until old wounds were healed and the grief not so near. Watson and Holmes would go back to the mysteries, maybe Watson would finally write that book he’s been itching to for years. Jim and Seb, they would probably spend a week in London and then travel on to Oklahoma where a certain little girl was waiting for them.

 _Maybe real life does have happy endings from time to time_.


	17. A Three AM Delivery

**2010—LONDON, ENGLAND**

*******

“And then we made you a room here soon afterwards,” Sebastian finishes with a fond smile. He was proud of his storytelling skills, a real master at entertaining an audience, except his audience in this case had fallen asleep at some point. Thalia laid curled up in Jim’s lap, chocolate drying around her mouth and the tip of her nose, little fingers loosely gripping the lapel of Jim’s top. Likewise, Jim’s head was thrown back, mouth opened wide and allowing snores to escape that could be used as emergency sirens if the need arises. In short, it was completely adorable.

Now to figure out how to move them without waking them up because one of them grumpy and sleep-deprived was bad enough, but _both of them at the same time?_ No, that was just asking for Hell on earth.

Shaking his head, Seb rises from his seat and gently extracts his daughter out of Jim’s arms, tip-toeing to her bedroom. It was large and easy to trip over toys she’d forgotten to pick up that evening, but he made it to the bed without incident and was able to tuck her in without her waking up or sounding the alarm. He turns off the hearing aids and returns them to their little charger for the night, careful not to bump any of the settings since they were finally just right. 

He takes a moment to really look at her, noticing the way her baby fat was slowly thinning out in her cheeks, the way her pale hair showed more of the red tint she’d inherited from her mother. He knew she would be a beautiful woman someday, marry a nice person that treated her right, and give Seb a couple of grandkids to spoil. Of course, that would be a long time from now and only if said spouse could pass Sebastian’s patented hurt-my-daughter-and-I’ll-kill-you-slow speech and then Jim’s multiple cups of poisonous coffees. In all honesty, it would be Alicia and Kelsey that posed the biggest threat, both women well-versed in scaring off anyone that posed a danger to their family.

Sebastian carefully makes his way out of his baby’s room and back to the kitchen, mentally preparing himself for what might happen next. How was anyone supposed to get a grown man into a bedroom without causing him to wake up? Seb wasn’t sure it was possible, but he knew leaving Jim in a kitchen chair all night would just cause problems the next day and he really didn’t want his daughter witnessing him getting shot in the ass. He rubs his left cheek, remembering just how being shot in the ass felt.

 _That belly dancer girl sure knew how to aim_.

Knowing that he just needed to get it over with as soon as possible, Sebastian scoops his boyfriend up and starts for the bedroom. Despite everything, it always surprised him how light Jim was considering how much the man ate in any given day, the younger man settling comfortably in Seb’s arms.

It was easy to get Jim back to their room, setting him down on the bed and removing his bunny slippers—a gift from Thalia when she turned three last year—before pulling the silken sheets and comforter up to Jim’s chin. Another thing that always surprised him was how Jim slept, all curled up in a tiny ball on his side unless he was sick, then he would be spread eagle and taking up the entire bed.

Sebastian was just about to crawl in bed himself when he heard a knock on the door. He glances at the alarm clock, scowling when he realizes that it’s nearly three in the morning. With the scowl firmly in place, he grabs his favorite handgun and starts back through the house to the front door of the loft, yanking it open. He’d half-expected to find some kind of hitman or desperate client on the other side, but instead he just finds a cardboard box about the size of a notebook.

“Who the fuck makes deliveries at three AM,” he mutters, eyeing the box suspiciously. _Could it be rigged somehow? Ready to explode or filled with some sort of deadly toxin?_ Stomach twisting unpleasantly, he picks the box up and examines it in the low light of the hallway. There were no small wires, no traces of any powder around the edges, it was just a normal package that had been dropped off at an ungodly hour.

Still, not one to take chances when the people he loved were nearby, Seb trades in his pistol for a pocket knife before going back out into the hall. If he was going to open it, and his curiosity wouldn’t let him do any differently at the moment, then he would do it with a door between the package and his family. With a steady hand, he slices through the packaging tape smoothly, closing the knife again before opening the flaps.

Inside is a book nestled in bubble wrap, the cover glossy and reflecting the lights. Now thoroughly confused since he wasn’t the type to order books and Jim was completely opposed to online shopping, Seb pulls the book out and lets the box drop to the floor. The picture on the cover was of a pyramid with sand being blown around it, the title written in a bold, golden script right above it.

**_THE MUMMY_ **

He flips it open and finds a hand-written note on the first page, the dark green Sharpie really standing out against the pale paper. _Thought you’d get a kick out of this—J. Watson_. The dedication page came after that, just a short paragraph thanking the publishing company and ‘A curly-haired twat that insists on dragging me all over London in search of another adventure.’ Sebastian snorts at that, realizing what this might be.  _Watson always said he would write a book one day and what better way to do that than by writing about an adventure no one will believe?_

Smiling, he turns to the first page of the actual story to see how his old army buddy would start this little tale. The prologue seemed a simple one, set back in ancient Egypt to introduce ol’ toilet paper breath himself; there was true love, brutal murder, mummification, just the usual. But it’s when he gets to the first chapter that the smile begins to fade because this wasn’t at all right. It was set in the 1920’s, which wasn’t all bad considering they had some nice clothes back then, but that isn’t what made Sebastian want to strangle John Watson with his own stethoscope.

“He turned me straight,” he grumbles, brows furrowed as he continues to read. The infamous Rick O’Connell, clearly a mixture of Watson and Seb, was all things a white-bread hero should be: dashing, rebellious, weapons expert, and as straight as a ruler. Rick would face his enemies head-on, fight until he just couldn’t anymore, and he was also best friends with a little rat that would make Frank Burns look like an upstanding member of society.

A little further on, Seb’s frown turns into a grin and then into a full-out, side-hurting laugh because _Jim was in it_ and on top of it all _Jim was a fucking woman!_ Sure, Evelyn Carnahan could possibly be based on Alicia and, sure, her older brother did share a couple of traits with Jim, but the woman was someone who prefers books to people, is constantly frustrated by museum curators, and does the nose twitch thing when she’s upset by something. She’s Jim and there’s no question about it.

“Oh, I’ve got to send Watson a fucking gift basket for this one.”


End file.
